


One Who Rules Over All [Hiatus]

by Rose_thejedi_lothcat



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Chronicles of Narnia/Lord of the Rings Crossover, Crossover, Dialogue Heavy, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 44,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23436154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_thejedi_lothcat/pseuds/Rose_thejedi_lothcat
Summary: After Aslan brought back everyone to the True Narnia, the adventures just begun. Now, Aslan has called his kings and queens to a new adventure, beyond the recesses of Narnia and into a new world.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 55





	1. The Forest Between the Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that I will be taking conversation from the movie script. I do not have the rights to these.
> 
> Oh! So I realized that the Fellowship faced Goblins in Moria, not Orcs. For those who are disturbed by this mistake, please ignore or roll with it. Sorry for the divergence, but I have neither the time not the patience to fix this. In 'One Who Rules Over All' the Fellowship will face Moria Orcs. Awesome. Yay. *goes and buries face in hands in a hole*

The Last Battle was finished. Narnia was gone, vanished into the darkness from where it had been born. The Last King, with all faithful creatures, were safe within the True Narnia, or Aslan's Country as it was rightfully called. The First Sons of Adam and the First Daughter of Eve were there. Those called from the Other World were there, from Digory and Polly, to Eustace and Jill. All but Susan were there.

However, for the Two Sons of Adam and the Two Daughters of Eve to be reunited, they would have to embark on another mission. One they considered to be one of their greatest adventures

There once was a forest, a very dense forest with its trees growing close together. The trees were tall, and like the beech trees of this world, did not have many branches close to the ground, but at the very top of their great trunks. They were full of leaves so that the light shinning down from above was a very green color. The grass on the lawn was plush, and as the forest it grew in, dense; so green and full of life that it had to be manicured. Yet, everything of the forest spoke of an unfettered wildness.  
In this forest, every few yards or so, there was a pool. Each pool was perfectly round, about ten feet in circumference. Because there was no wind - not even the smallest of breezes - the surface of each pool was clear and as still as the glass in a mirror. The green of the canopy of leaves was reflected up from these pools, who would reflected the blue of the sky if any of the sky broke through the trees' veil.

Besides the aforementioned absence of the wind, there was no presence of any bird, insect or animal. There was complete and utter silence in this forest. So still and quiet that the air was quite thick, and made one's mind thick and think only of the peace of sleep.  
It was a forest, very alive and rich in flora, but at the same time... it seemed to linger in a state that was alive and dead.

In the center of this forest, surrounded by the intervals of spaces between the pools, there sat a stone of white marble. It was low and cut rectangular, like a table. And on this table lay the most amazing creature ever seen.  
It was a lion. A great, enormous, golden lion, sitting on all fours. His mane was almost the same shade as his fur, but so long and silky that anyone who saw it would want to stroke and brush it immediately, though it lay without tangle or burr. The most terrifying and amazing thing about the lion however, were his eyes. They were great orbs of green and gold, shinning with an ocean of wisdom and emotion beyond those dark lids. They were warm with kindness, indicting at once that this lion was no ordinary beast, but one extremely wild and gentle all at the same time. The eyes glittered with infinite knowledge, that if anyone could escape the spell of sleep laying upon the forest and met this great creature, they would have to fall on their knees. Nothing escaped the gaze of this creature. For the gaze and the forest both belonged to the Lion: Aslan, Son of the Emperor Over the Sea, Creator of the Land of Narnia, Keeper of the Woods Between the Worlds, The Many-Named One.

Aslan leaped gracefully for his throne, and walked around the pools at a stately speed, without the urge to hurry, for everything bowed to him. He looked down upon each of the pools, watching each of the worlds in its turn. Some he watched more than others, his eyes expressed all that needed to be known, his muzzle, ears and tail twitching. He paused before one, and bent down in an almost sitting position as he watched the happenings therein. A low growl escaped his throat as he watched. Whatever the Lion saw, it did not sit well with him, and all at once, he leaped away. This would not do! Not at all!  
With a single bound, he leaped over another pool, landing next to the Pool.  
The pool of his world.  
Narnia.  
A low rumble escaped at the thought of having another adventure ready for his beloveds. A lion's purr.  
He slipped forward, entering the pool without any fear of the water that soon covered his head. The water rippled, and then grew still.  
The Lion was in Narnia.  
Aslan had returned.  
Another adventure begun.


	2. Aslan's Call

“Aslan! It's Aslan! Everyone – Aslan has come!”

The young woman's cry caused the inhabitants of the palace to drop whatever they were doing, and race towards the entrance. From old Lady Polly and Lord Digory, to the young King Tirian, from inside and out of Cair Paravel, all made their way to the front of the stone palace.

And there stood the Great Lion, with the youngest of the Four standing next to him.

Lucy had grown into a fine young woman, much like she had during her first rule over Narnia. Her long, light chestnut hair grew only slightly darker, brushing just below her busom. Next to the Lion, she seemed quite small, only reaching to his white chin, though, in actuality, her height was five foot and a half, more if she chose to wear heels that day. Her gray eyes shone with unbridled joy, and one hand stroked the Lion's mane. She wore a velvet gown of silver and winter blue, and the crown of silver-wrought flowers upon her head.

“Aslan,” breathed out Peter, for he was to first to arrive, though his brother and the rest of the kings and queens, ladies and lords, and all other manner of friends were close at his heels.

The High King dropped to his knees, bowing his head in reverance to the Lion.

“You are welcome here,”

Aslan lowered his head to look upon the Son of Adam, a smile upon the Lion's face and in those golden eyes.

“Thank you, my son,” he answered. “Now, rise, all of you. I would have need to talk with you. Come, Peter, Edmund, Lucy; with me, Caspian, Rilian, and you as well, Eustace, and Jill. Digory, Polly, this is an adventure for the young ones. I can trust you to attend to Narnia and her provinces meanwhile?”

The First Son of Adam and the First Daughter of Eve to ever step foot in Narnia both bowed their heads, Polly dropping down in a curtsy, in understanding.

“No fear, Aslan,” Digory replied. “Take the kings and queens with you, and everything will as it was when you return.”

Aslan blinked slowly, before turning around. Those whom he had called came over to his side, while the others dispersed. The two women reached out to hold to Aslan while they walked through the halls, while the men strode ahead and behind.

For a few moments, there was nothing but the soft taps of shoes upon stone, and the barely-heard whisper of the Lion's tail swishing the ground.

“What is it that you had need to talk to you, Aslan?” Edmund broke the silence first.

“I have another adventure for you, my kings and queens,” Aslan said. “This time, it will not take place in Narnia, nor her neighboring provinces.”

The reaction was immediate, the atmosphere became charged with excitement and hope.

“Truly, Aslan?” Lucy asked. Caspian's dark eyes were alight with the thought of entering into another world. From since he had known the Pevensies, he had always longed to see other worlds other than his own. He had had a taste right before entering to Aslan's Country, seeing the world of the Pevensies, and of Eustace and Jill.

“Yes, my dear,” Aslan replied. “Narnia is safe, and its time has come and gone, and now it remains in a state that will go on forever more, but there are yet other worlds who have not entered into this beloved state. One such world, one that is almost as dear to me as Narnia, is entering it a dark age. Now those who keep watch over it for me call out to me for assistance.”

“Another world?” Rilian questioned.

“We get to see another world?” Peter asked. Aslan's smile gleamed through his eyes rather than his mouth. He knew they would be excited, and it was great joy to see them as such.

“Yes, my sons,” he said. “But be warned, children, for this world is not like my land of Narnia. This land is wild and dangerous for those not shielded by my breathe and favor. Come, my kings, come, my queens, let us prepare for your adventure.”

“Lucy, Jill,” he said. They turned aside from the main hall and headed to the Hall of Rooms, where the Sons of Adam and the Daughter of Eves had their own rooms.

“This world is a dangerous one, so beware; stay with the kings, do not stray from their side, lest you be wounded. I will not allow my children to be killed, though it might have been a possiblity in this world, but I cannot stop you from becoming wounded, and this I dread. Both of you will be taking a bow, and a quiver of arrows, ones blessed by me, and therefore will not empty. Lucy, take your coridal, you will have need of it, as well as your dagger. Jill, you will be given a short sword for this venture. Go now, my dears, and prepare yourselves. We shall join you in the courtyard at the moon's rising.”

“Yes, Aslan,” Lucy and Jill said in unison. They untangled their hands from his mane, and curtsied low, before turning aside into their rooms. Aslan and the men continued on.

“My sons,” Aslan said. “For while you had not need for your armor and swords for some time, you will need it for this adventure, for this world is nearing war. Fit yourself in full armor, from helm to feet. The journey will be long, and laborous, testing both physical and mental strength. High King, take up your sword, Rindon, and bear your shield. Edmund, take only your sword, for your part in this adventure, a shield will only slow you down. Caspian, take your crossbow and quiver, your dagger and sword. Rilian, take up your sword and shield. Now go, my sons, prepare.”

The men departed with bows, and the Lion continued on his way, heading for the last part of preparation for this adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have made mention that I will be using movie characters for those that have appeared in movies, and book characters for those who have only appeared in books. I will lean towards movie canon rather than book canon in the Lord of the Rings side, but there will be a mix for the characters from Narnia. Hopefully, though, you all will love it anyway.


	3. Fare Thee Well, Travelers to a Distant Land

The moon was rising over Cair Paravel, but no one was sleeping. All were gathered in the Courtyard, where the party had gathered together before the arched way. The seven were all mounted, and waiting for Aslan, amidst the cheers and well wishes of their friends and subjects.

The Lion entered into Cair Paravel once more, and the courtyard fell silent at the sight of a tall woman riding on a horse beside him. Her dark, almost black hair, fell in heavy ringlets about her shoulders, and she was dressed for travel and war, with a ivory horn hanging by her side, and a quiver full of red-fledged arrows upon her back. A bow was strapped across her chest; but her face was washed in a pensive expression. Caspian and Rilian, who had been in the midst of bidding Ramandu's Daughter farewell, looked upon the woman, Caspian recognizing her at once, as did the High King and his siblings.

All sounds and voices were forgotten at the sight of the woman riding on a black gelding beside the Lion.

“S-Susan?”

A quiet voice rent the air with its stammering question.

The woman looked up and locked eyes with the owner. A shy smile speaking more than any voice could made a way to the dark-haired woman's lips. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the saddle horn.

“Yes, Lucy, it is me.”

“Oh, Susan!” gasped Lucy, her voice breaking in a heartbreaking sob. The youngest queen of the Four Rulers, gripped the reins of her horse and brought it around to stand on the other side of Susan's mount. Lucy leaned over in the saddle and draped herself over the one sibling whom she had not seen for the longest of time. Susan accepted the action, wrapping her hands around the young queen.

“Oh, Lucy,” she echoed her sister.

The whispers which had been rotating through the crowd were growing louder, as Peter, Edmund, Caspian, and all others who had known the older Queen, stared at Susan in shock and happiness.

“It's Queen Susan the Gentle!” came the sudden cry. “The Queen has returned to Narnia! All hail the returning Queen, for she has found her way home!”

“All hail the returning Queen!” came the echoing shout, as all the Narnians dropped to their knees before the mounted monarch. Susan choked back a sob, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth at the behavior, blinking away the tears threatening to decompose her.

“Y-Yes,” she whispered, before straightening herself. “Yes, I have come home. I beg your forgiveness, all of you, for my failure to return with my siblings when they came to live here with you at the end of Narnia.”

Lucy looked up at her sister.

“Oh, Susan,” she said. “Did you not know? As Aslan forgave you, so do we. We have been reunited, the Four Kings and Queens together again.”

She turned around in the saddle, and raised her hand.

“All hail Queen Susan the Gentle, the returning Queen!”

Susan had no chance to protest, when the cry was echoed by her ecstatic subjects and old friends.

After the last echo of the cry died into the hills, Aslan gave a rumble, and all attention turned to him.

“Now, Narnia, we bid farewell to these present undertaking a journey upon my request,” he said. “Give farewell to Peter Pevensie the Magnificent, your High King of the Clear Northern Sky, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion.”

A resounding farewell came from the gathered crowd, as the Lion strode over to Peter. The white horse, seeing Aslan approach, dropped its forelegs, bowing its head, for though it was not one of the Talking Beasts, it knew Aslan as its Creator. Peter did the same, lowering his head in presence of the Lion.

“Strength and peace to you, High King,” Aslan said. He breathed upon him, before whispering to Peter, “Do not stray from the path, keep your mind and remember me in your trial of need.”

Peter closed his eyes in understanding as the Lion turned away from him, and the horse went to stand up once more.

“Narnia, bid a farewell to your returning queen, Queen Susan the Gentle, of the Radiant Southern Sun and of the Horn, your Lady of Cair Paravel, and Markswoman Queen.”

Susan's farewell was more disappointed than Peter's, as she had just returned to her people, only to leave. Her horse also dropped before Aslan, and the Lion breathed upon her.

“Peace, gentle queen,” he said to her, “For you will return. Take heart, beloved, and rise up. You are still a Queen of Narnia.”

Susan nodded as her horse got up on its forelegs once more, as Aslan turned to Edmund.

“Narnia, bid a farewell to your king, Edmund the Just, of the Great Western Wood, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.”

“Edmund, my son, do not fear what may come, for I am with you. For all that you have experienced, you are loyal to me, and will stand firm when others may fail.”

With those words said, Aslan turned to Lucy, and Narnia bid the youngest queen a fond farewell.

“Fair Lioness,” he whispered after he breathed his favor and protection upon her. “Brave of heart, keep your eyes upon me, dear one.”

“Always, Aslan,” promised Lucy in the same manner of whispering breath. Aslan seemed pleased with her answer, for indeed, he was. Then he turned to stand between the horses of Caspian the Tenth, Telermarine King of Narnia, and Unexpected Savior, and his son, King Rilian, Half-Telemarine and Son of the Daughter of a Star.

“Now, Narnians, bid farewell to your kings, Caspian the Tenth, Telemarine King, and King Rilian of the Silver Chair.”

To Caspian, he said these words:

“Steady your heart, my son, though temptation comes your way. Remember, you are King of Narnia, and once a King of Narnia, always a king, whenever from far away, or near to home.”

Then he turned to Rilian.

“The Stars' blood flows through your blood, my son; be aware of this fact when you come across the strange lands and words of strangers.”

After he spoke to the half-natives of Narnia, he turned to Eustace and Jill and breathed upon them both.

“You both are dear to me. In a company of kings and queens, you travel as Lord and Lady of Narnia. Do not think you are any less, for it is those who seem lesser are often the greater. Keep together, and do not part ways, for you are better together than separate.”

Then addressed the party as whole.

“Adventurers of Narnia, though dark and through the light, remember you are mine and no others'. You belong to Narnia, and here you will return. You will travel through a strange land. Seek the joy and victory, push back against the grief and shadow that has fallen upon the world. You come from me as bright lights, servants and sojourners. Recognize my name, and you shall not fail. And now, farewell, my kings and queens, my lord and lady.”

He opened his mouth and breathed heavily. The air grew thick with a haze, and the company faded from the Narnians' sight. Then Aslan roared, so that the earth shook and the trees shivered.

And when the air cleared, and the echoes Aslan's call disappeared, the company was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, it's Susan! I couldn't help it. I had to add her. She belongs there with the rest of them. Don't ask me why, or how. I don't the know specifics on either. The story just needs Susan. Not romantically, just for her character. I understand the reason why C.S. Lewis had her leave Narnia behind. But, now... this story needs Susan.


	4. Oh! Hello!

“Look Mister Frodo, it's the trolls Mister Bilbo told us about. Mister Frodo?”

There was a pause and a rustling of cloth, then the voice returned, worry coating on its every word.

“He's goin' cold!”

A greater pause, then, a higher voice broke in. It sounded so close to tears, and was thick with accent.

“Is he goin' ta die?”

A third voice broke the silence, sounding grim, yet still steady and soft.

“He is passing into the Shadow World, soon he will become a wraith like them.”

Then there was a wailing cry, cold and harsh. Caspian would later describe it like the scream of hunting werewolf, and as cold as a wolf's howl in the middle of winter. And it was returned. A gasping sound was heard.

Someone was hurt!

The Narnians looked at each other, worry expressed in every one of their faces, while their horses pawed the ground nervously.

“What should we do?” Lucy inquired. It was dark in the forest, and the conversation they had just overhead did not comfort them at all. Especially the words 'Shadow World,' and 'wraith.'

“It wouldn't do for all of us to go out there,” Edmund said. “We're in full battle armor, and whoever is out there sounded afraid.”

“I suggest we send Lucy,” Eustace advised. “Or Jill. They are less likely to act violently with either of them.”

“What do you say, Lu?” Peter inquired. Lucy looked around, catching the worried eyes of the rest of her party. Finally, she gave a nod.

“I will go,” she said. “Aslan sent me with my cordial, perhaps I can help whoever is hurt. If anything, I could gather some information about this world.

“Better go now, then,” said Rilian. “It sounds as if they are just about to run off in search for a herb of healing.”

“Right, wish me luck,” Lucy said, she nudged her horse forward.

“Wait, Sam,” said the accented voice. “I think I hear something. It's a horse!”

“Is it one of the Riders?”

“No, no, I don't think so. It's too slow, but it's coming nearer!”

“Quick, hide!” cried the grim voice.

“What about Mister Frodo?”

“I will keep watch and determine whether whoever comes is a threat or not,” answered the grim one.

“No, wait!” Lucy called. “I mean you no harm! Please, do not hide!”

There was a pregnant pause, only broken by the dreadful wheezing gasp of the wounded. Lucy urged her horse in the small clearing, and found herself looking upon a company of five. A man, dressed in clothes of fit of years of travel was accompanied by four – children? No, that wasn't right, they weren't children, how strange – beings. One of them was laying upon the ground, gasping for every breathe. The three who were standing were staring up at her with wide eyes and open mouths, while the man looked upon her as if trying to figure her out.

“Who are you?” the man demanded. “And why do you wander through these woods alone? It is dangerous.”

“I am Lucy,” the youngest queen answered, not quite sure if she should reveal her royal titles just yet. “And I am not alone. I was with my siblings and friends when we heard your voices. It was decided that I should come to you, for I could perhaps help your ailing friend, and least threatening of them.”

“You can help Mister Frodo?” cried three different voices, the small beings.

“Please, miss,” said the blonde one. “He's hurt so badly, and I fear that we will soon lose him.”

Lucy dropped herself from her horse's saddle, and grabbed her cordial. She could see the man eyeing her suspiciously, and turned to him.

“Please, sir,” she said. “Come and assist me, if you wish. Or watch, I have nothing to hide from you, and only mean to help.”

“Do as you wish,” said the man, and Lucy sighed in relief within at his words. She knelt down beside the wounded being, and drew out the cordial.

“What's that?” asked what seemed the youngest of the small beings. It was he who had the accent, Lucy heard.

“It is a cordial, made by certain healing flowers,” Lucy explained, avoiding the use of the flowers' actual names. Different world. Different flora. She doubted they would have fireflowers here.

“It is very potent,” she offered further, “And has healed my brother from what might have been a fatal blow.”

“How does it fare with poison?” inquired the man.

“As well as it fares with physical aliments,” Lucy replied. “Here, you only need one drop.”

She tipped the glass and one drop of the healing liquid slipped from the bottle's lip and into Frodo's mouth.

“I must warn you,” Lucy said as she leaned back. “It may frighten you, for it causes one to appear dead at first -”

At their horrified expressions, and at the man's darkening one, she hastened her speech.

“But fear not,” she soothed. “For once the appearance of death passes, then your friend will be revived.”

As soon as she spoke, the ailing being stopped thrashing and laid still. Those present held their breathe, as Lucy gave a silent plea to Aslan for the cordial to work. Then, the being gasped, a very different sound than the pained ones than forehand. It was one freed of pain. The man gave a small sound, almost like a gasp of his own.

“How? I fear not even the medicine of the Elves can compare to this cordial,” he whispered. Lucy perked up at this, though schooled her face to escape showing any surprise at the mention of Elves. Meanwhile, the blonde-haired being – she should really ask of what they were! - stroked the forehead of the one on the ground, feeling for temperature using the back of his hand.

“His fever's broke.”

There was a break in the tense atmosphere.

“Wait, she's not an Elf?” the accented one asked. The man shook his head.

“She is not, she is just a daughter of Man, are you not?”

Lucy nodded. Suddenly, her horse gave cry, stomping and shuddering. Lucy glanced up at it, worried. From spending so much time with Talking Horses, she had learned to read even the Dumb beasts fairly well. And her steed was giving her an alert. Something was out there. Something dangerous.

“Lucy!” came a distant cry. “We've got company!”

The others shot to their feet, and the man's hand immediately went to his side. A sword, Lucy nodded, while the two still standing glanced at each other nervously. Lucy stood to her feet, and readied her bow.

“No,” the man. “I will not suffer you any harm, for not only have you saved our companion without any thought of recompense, but I will not allow myself to see so fair a lady fight against such evil creatures. I cannot bear to see a lady of your stature caught up in our troubles any further.”

“Lucy!” called Edmund. “Lucy, are you there?!”

“I'm here!” Lucy replied at the worried cries of her brothers. “What's the plan?”

“We cannot do anything to these creatures!” came Edmund's reply through the trees. “They are like evil dryads!”

“They are trying to reach your position!” Here was Peter. “Wait, Jill!”

Lucy and her newfound companions could hear the clashing of swords, of horses and armor. And then, they heard the sounds of horses approaching their position from two different directions. No, three. Lucy sucked in her breath at Peter's cry. _What had Jill tried to do? Was she alright?_

The horses were drawing closer, and Lucy's steed, a mare by the name of Hwyh, shuddered, reacting from one of the directions. But there was one horse who would enter the clearly faster than the one Hwyh feared. The man, instead of reaching for the blade at his, instead, reached for a burning brand from the fire. Lucy wondered at this, if not for the sudden appearance of the first horse and rider.

“Caspian!” Lucy gasped, glad to see him. “What's going on?”

“Black horses, black riders,” Caspian replied. He turned his horse, Destier around, though the black stallion was shaking from head to hock. “Vile creatures, of darkness and deep magic. We cannot harm them.”

“They are called the Nazgul,” the man supplied. “The Ringwraiths.”

Caspian nodded at this information.

“Come, Lucy,” he said. “Get on Hwyh, and -”

Destier suddenly gave cry and screamed, rising up on his rear and beating the air. Caspian yelled in surprise and reacted immediately to stay in the saddle, and in rode one of the Ringwraiths. The black horse stopped as its rider looked around. Lucy shivered at the sight, as the small beings cowered behind the man and herself. The presence of evil was strong and would have been unnerving if not for the strong breathe of Aslan still resting upon her.

The Black Rider seemed to look around through the movements of the black cowl, taking each member into consideration. Then it's unseen gaze reached Frodo, and it jumped down from its red-eyed mount.

Caspian, Lucy, and the man immediately moved to cover Frodo from the Black Rider, and Lucy raised her bow at the Ringwraith.

“Whether Black Rider, or Nazgul,” she said. “Whatever your task is, it shall go undone. Heed me, O creature of evil, and turn away. Return from whence you came, and go empty-handed, for I will not suffer you.”

“You know not of whom you speak to, daughter of Man,” came the voice beyond the cover of the black hood. It was harsh voice, and caused the small beings to shiver in fear and cower behind the man. The man was standing firm, all his attention on the Rider.

“My master bids me to gather unto him his most precious treasure, and he will not barter with a mere woman. I shall pass through, and return, but you will not, for you shall be dead.”

“You dare threaten her!” Caspian spat. “You dare speak against the lady!”

“Evil creature, I am no mere woman,” Lucy declared, standing tall, just as a third rider came into sight. The newcomer paused at the sight before her, and did not speak, for this was new to her.

“By the Mane, I condemn you, spawn of the darkness,” Lucy said, and let fly her arrow. The Nazgul screeched as the arrow caught it before it bend away from the flight, and the arrow pieced its shoulder. While Caspian at her side, the others gasped in amazement as the Nazgul continued to screech, now in pain. It stumbled away, holding its injured shoulder.

“How?” it screamed. “How could you injure me? Naught by the Witch King holds any such doom!”

And with that, it gathered its horse and fled with another screech.

“S-Sam?”

A small, quite voice broke the silence that had fallen on the group. Immediately, the tow-headed being twisted and ran to kneel beside the being on the ground. Her grasped his hand.

“Right here, Mister Frodo.”

“I-I thought I heard the.. the...”

Everyone had turned to the being as he struggled to get past an invisible barrier. The man knelt down and laid a gentle hand on the being's shoulder.

“Leave it be, Frodo,” he said, gentleness in his voice. Lucy smiled softly. Though he appeared grim and frightening, there was a good soul beneath it.

“You are safe, and surprisingly, healed.”

“I- what?” Frodo sat up, shocked. “But I was stabbed, and oh! Is that an Elf, Strider?”

The man – apparently, his name was Strider – leaned away, and for the first time, the company caught sight of the third rider. It was woman, tall and beautiful, one that strangely reminded Caspian of his own wife, though this was wreathed in dark hair, while his was light and fair as any star.

“Yes, Frodo,” Strider said. His voice soft, as the now recognized Elf smiled encouraging from her position. “It is an Elf. Arwen, _what are you doing here? There are Nazgul about. Surely, your father would not allow you travel so far from the Last Homely House?_ ”"

Caspian and Lucy blinked as Strider suddenly delved into another language. It was a beautiful, lilting language, and at the same time, harsh and sharp. Frodo gave a sharp intake of breathe, while the others listened in rapture.

“Elvish,” Frodo whispered.

“What did Strider say? Could you tell, Frodo?” the accented one whispered back.

“Some,” Frodo said. “Strider is asking the Elf – Arwen – what she is doing so far from home.”

Before Arwen could reply, Peter and Edmund's voices came through the forest.

“Lucy? Caspian? Are you alright? Are we free to come?”

The Elf started at the voices, and straightened.

“Who goes there?” she asked, and Lucy and Caspian immediately recognized the voice of a person of royalty. Lucy had shifted in the meantime, towards Caspian and to Hywh.

“Lucy, who's that?” asked Edmund after a moment of silence.

“It's safe, _I'm_ safe,” Lucy called out, before turning to the Elf. “It's okay, they're with me and this man. I'm Lucy and this is Caspian.”

The Elf did not seem convinced entirely, until Strider spoke up.

“Lady Lucy healed Frodo from a Morgal blade.”

The Elf's - Arwen's - eyebrows went up in surprise, and she glanced at Lucy with sudden sharpness, though not unkind, more of astonishment. And then the rest of the Narnians came into the clearing, and stopped at the strange company before them. Lucy and Caspian approached them.

“Peter, this is Strider,” Lucy introduced. “Strider, this is Peter, my eldest brother, and leader of our party.”

“Well met,” Strider shook Peter's out-held hand.

“Also, this is my brother, Edmund, and my sister, Susan,” Lucy introduced further. “Our friends, Eustace and Jill, Caspian, and his son, Rilian.”

“Son?” piped up the accented one, cocking his head to one side that was just _adorable_. “More like brothers, I would say.”

“Pippin!” scolded Sam, scandalized, but Caspian and Rilian both laughed.

“It is good to know that I still have some youth in me,” Caspian quipped. “Now, for you, we know Strider and apparently, Pippin, but who is everyone else?”

“I am Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond, Master of the Last of the Homely Houses,” Arwen introduced herself. All the Narnians bowed their heads in recognition of the title.

“I'm Pippin, well, actually, I'm Peregrin Took, but everyone calls me Pippin, or Pip,” Pippin introduced. “And this is Meridoc Brandybuck, otherwise known as Merry. And over there is our cousin, Frodo Baggins, and his gardener, Samwise Gamgee. You can call him Sam.”

“Well met,” Peter said. “I am glad to have met you.”

“You are welcome to travel with us,” Strider suddenly spoke up. He had been in a hushed conversation with Arwen while Pippin had distracted Lucy's company.

“Oh?” Edmund's brow went up. This was unexpected.

“Yes,” Arwen came in. “You would be most welcome in the House of Elrond, for there is no other place for hospitality to weary travelers. You must have traveled from afar, as I have never such armor 'fore.”

“And it takes an awful lot for an Elf not to know sumthun',” Sam comment. The Narnians looked at each other, and then, in unison nodded.

“Yes, we have traveled far from home,” Peter said, and suddenly he felt as if he shouldn't have said that at all. “We would welcome some of this fabled hospitality.”

“Then come, it is not far now," Arwen responded and turned her ride back from the direction she had come. "Come, we must make haste. The Nazgul were not far, and it is best that we make distance between us 'fore they return."

"As you wish," Peter nodded, and followed after. "But first, I notice that some of us are on foot. Could we offer any of you a ride? Our horses are hale and strong."

"Thank you," Strider said. "We gratefully accept. Come, Master Hobbits, up you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I gave justice to everyone. It still feels fake somehow. Hopefully, it gets better. And yes, this is Lord of the Rings with characters of Narnia. Great, isn't it?


	5. Welcome to Imladris

Indeed, it was not far at all. All followed the Elf as she led them through the woods and past a bridge, and then, they entered into the realm of Elrond. Immediately, the Narnians felt magic.

“What is this?” Edmund asked, sharing a look with Rilian.

“It is the power of my father,” Arwen answered. “It is he who keeps Imladris from the other seasons, so that those who live here do not fight against the bite of winter, nor the heat of the summer, but is always the cool of autumn and spring. It is also a shield to keep the creatures of evil from entering.”

The Narnians looked at each other. Locking an area into an eternal state? The seasons were meant for a reason.

Then they caught sight of the valley, and gasped. Never had they seen such a province before. Even with the tingle of magic in the wind, it was beautiful. Trees, caught up in the lateness of autumn, crowded each. Clouds of rust, and gold and orange spread out beyond and into the valley, like an early sunset painted across the land instead of the sky. In the midst of the valley, seated on a distant ledge and cradled between multiple waters, lay a wondrous settlement. White like ivory, and as delicate as it was ancient, lay the Last of the Homely Houses, Imladris.

“Oh my!” cried Susan, pausing her steed in her shock. The other Narnians had done the same.

“It's beautiful,” sighed Jill, falling in love with the waterfalls.

“I've always dreamed of seeing the Elves and Rivendell,” said Sam, covering his eyes to see further. “I can't believe I'm actually here, can you, Mister Frodo?”

“No, Sam,” Frodo said. “But now that I am here, I am glad.”

There was a relief in his voice that the Narnians knew only too well. It was the feeling of an adventure at its end, a quest complete. At this, they wondered at what Aslan had sent them into. Surely, their adventure was not at an end already?

“Come,” Arwen finally said, urging her horse forward. The rest of the company followed her, but haltingly. She did not see the wordless conversations the Narnians hurriedly communicated with each other. Was this enchant ment of eternal season one to ignore or to challenge?

It was momentarily forgotten when the company reached the bridge. The Narnians stared at how small the width actually was. Only one horse would be able to pass it at a time.

“Oh dear,” said Lucy, seeing it, and suddenly feeling faint. She was hard-pressed not to look down at the ravine below. 

“What is wrong, Miss Lucy?” Pippin asked, looking and up at her. Strider and his company, though appreciative of the ride to Imladris, had all elected to walk as soon as they had arrived in the valley. 

“I'm nervous about the bridge,” admitted Lucy. “I didn't...”

“Know it to be so narrow?” Strider inquired with an arched brow, a smile ghosting his lips. “Elven bridges are always so, Lady Lucy, but come, see how Arwen's mount, the noble Taurfal, walks without fear, so shall your own steeds. Trust in the horse, my lady. Come, Master Hobbits, this way, before the horses.”

Hobbits?

The small beings were known as Hobbits? Quite fitting, Lucy mused. The four Hobbits followed right after one another chasing after Strider, like goslings following their mother, as he walked across the bridge. Seeing the faith Strider had in the architecture of the bridge, Lucy took a breathe, and patted Hwyh.

“Let's go, we are Narnians, after all,” _We are made for experiencing the new_. She whispered to her mount, who flicked an ear in her direction, and snuffled, before going forward. The others followed after Lucy, and without incident, they passed through, though the height when Eustace once looked down made him feel very dizzy.

When they at last arrived upon the welcoming pavilion, the Narnians breathed a sigh of relief. It was right after that they saw a dark-haired Elf stately making his way down towards them. Arwen had dismounted and her steed was gone. _Where had it gone?_

“I was not aware your company had grown, Strider,” the male Elf said, rising a brow. He was better than Edmund, though Lucy with a repressed giggle. Edmund, as if sensing her thought, glanced her way, before focusing on the scene before him. Lucy could feel a certain amount of magic surrounding the Elf. 

“They joined not but a few hours ago, my Lord Elrond,” Strider replied. “Were it not for our desparate situation, it probably would not have been so.”

Elrond raised his brow even further, though the Narnians were surprised that it could go further than it already had. Jill stifled her laughter. Strider, who had obviously had dealings with the Elven lord, continued.

“We were attacked by Black Riders, the Nazgul, upon Weathertop, where Frodo was struck with a Morgul blade.”

A flicker of apprehension passed through the Elven Lord's face, and he glanced sharply at Frodo. Puzzlement shadowed his face, but it was swiftly masked and he did not interrupt as Strider keep on his explanation.

“I feared we would not reach you before Frodo had turned to the Shadow World and joined the wraiths as one of them, but then, when all hope seemed lost, this lady, Lucy, came to us. She had upon her person a cordial that surpasses all means of even your own medicine, My Lord, and cured Frodo from the poison with but a single drop. If I had not seen it with mine own eyes, I would not have believed it, but as I had, it is true. Her companions, kin and friend alike, fought the Nazgul to keep them from Frodo a second time, though they did not know it at the same time.”

“They fought the Nazgul?” Elrond questioned and turned his gaze upon them. His gaze reminded Caspian, Edmund, Eustace and Lucy of the piercing sight of Corakin, while Peter thought of Oerius, the centeur.

“Then they must either very brave or very foolish,” he stated.

“We're right here, you know,” grumbled Susan.

“Apologizes, my lady,” Elrond gave a small bend of his neck to extend his apologizes. “I meant no offense. The Nazgul, however, are a formidable foe, as they are servants of Sauron the Deceiver. Their appearance means his return to Middle-Earth, and doom to us all.”

“That's a rather pessimistic look at it,” Edmund said. “Is there any way of barring Sauron?”

“There is a way of defeating Sauron once and for all,” Elrond responded. “But I should not burden you with such things at this moment. My daughter says that you have traveled far. Come now, and claim rest.”

Without a word from Elrond, or anyone else, there suddenly descended many Elves. Some drew the ladies away from their brothers and friends, while others drew the men away from the women, while still others began to care for the Narnians mounts. The Narnians were loathe to part, for Aslan's warnings were fresh in their mind, but the Elves were persuasive, and the Narnians, loathe as they were to part, they equally despised disturbing the peace that so obviously lay heavily upon the valley. When they had bathed and dressed in clean clothes from their packs, the Narnians came together again.

“This Lord Elrond is keeping secrets from us,” Eustace said when they had a chance to gather together once more. “Did you see how easily he sidestepped the question of stopping this Sauron character?”

“Yes, we all saw,” Edmund replied. While some were gathered about a table, he rested upon a bench by an upon window overlooking one of the many gardens. Despite all the enchantment upon the land, it felt much more like it was wrought with the thought of peace and rest in mind instead of the power to control the elements or people. It felt strangely safe, and it alarmed him just as it soothed him.

“He said they had a way of defeating Sauron,” Peter said, stroking his short beard. “But was hesitant to draw us into his confidence.”

“That cannot be helped,” Edmund said, hopping down from the bench and coming over to the table. “We're new, we are wearing strange clothes, and yet, they are clean. He's smart, he has seen past our 'traveled far' comment, but is waiting for us to make the first move. He's testing us.”

The eyes of his companions widened at his statement and they recognized the truth in it.

“So, what do we do?” Caspian asked.

“We pass the test,” Jill replied.

“How?” Rilian countered.

“It's not like we can come up to the Elven Lord and declare ourselves to him,” Susan sided with Rilian. “Can you see that? 'Hey, Lord Elrond, we are of a different world and come because Aslan, our, well, god, for lack of better words, took us out of there and placed us in here to help out somehow'.”

“Someone will find out somehow, somewhere along the way,” Peter said. “Lies, or secrets, always make their way to the light. But if we are open and truthful with Lord Elrond, we have his trust.”

“You are wise, dear brother,” Lucy said. “I would very much like to speak openly about Narnia. This world is like Aslan said, very dark and dangerous.”

“But it is also more vivid than Narnia or our own world, especially our own,” Susan said.

“Then we are in agreement?” Edmund inquired, leaning away from the table to return to his place on the window bench, but he remained facing the others.

“Let us vote now,” Peter said. “Nay, for keeping our secrets, aye, for revealing.”

“I say nay,” Eustace said. “If they are going to keep their secrets, then we are at liberty to do the same.”

“I agree with Eustace,” said Jill. “My vote is nay.”

“I say aye,” Lucy cast. “They were secretive because of the situation. It is not kind of us to do the same just for spite.”

“Aye, dear sister,” Susan nodded. “My vote is with you. Peter, my vote is aye.”

Peter nodded, keeping tally in his head.

“Caspian, Rilian?” he asked.

“We vote aye,” the men said.

“As do I,” Edmund said. Peter nodded.

“Two nays, five ayes,” he summarized. “And soon to be six, for I am in the mind that we must be open, lest we fall out of favor with our hosts. I apologize, Eustace and Jill.”

“If this is what you believe is right, then we are with you,” Eustace said. “We trust you, Peter.”

Peter bowed his head in thanks.

“Let us find Lord Elrond if this is our course of action,” he said, pushing out his chair and standing to his feet. The others followed him. Edmund looked out the window as he rose to join them. The moon was high in the sky. He hoped that the Lord of Imladris would yet be awake.

He was. In fact, the Narnians were halted by a messenger telling them that the Elf wished to meet with them in his study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's another chapter complete. Yay! Thank you for the kudos, and I believe you continue to follow this story to see where it will lead.


	6. The Truth

“My Lord Elrond, your guests,” Lindir announced. Elrond looked up from his desk, with Gandalf doing the same from beside him.

“Guests?” the wizard questioned.

“As you heard from Frodo,” Elrond said as he moved out of his chair to stand upon the dais to await the arrival of his guests. “A large party joined him in Trollshaw. Their garb was strange, as was the manner of their appearance. Neither Aragorn nor Arwen noticed their presence until they made themselves known. Come, stay and see them for yourself.”

Gandalf's brow rose at the passing comment these guests had stolen past the attention of both one of the best Rangers in Middle Earth, and an experienced Elf.

"I believe I will," he murmured, and made himself comfortable. Now he understood why Elrond had requested his presence after his reunion with Frodo's company.

The was sound of boots on marble, and gowns on polished stone. Gandalf listened carefully to these sounds. Experienced warriors, he thought, all edged with nobility. How strange. Then the guests entered Elrond's study. Gandalf quickly passed his eye upon each one of them in turn, examining them in his own way.

They were a company of eight, three women and five men, all Edain. Their leader appeared nearly alike to a man of Rohan, with fair hair that lay about his shoulders and shaven beard. His shoulders were broad, and he carried himself as one familiar with authority, his blue eyes declaring his noblity. Next to him was the first of the women, dark haired, pale skinned, grey eyed, one would think she was one of the Firstborn but for her apparent daughter of Man appearance. Beside her was a dark-haired man, with dark, wise eyes. His form was slender, but no less noble than the first man. He was followed by the second woman. She was fair and full of joy, her chestnut hair and laughing blue eyes strange to see on a daughter of Man. More akin to a Hobbit. How could one of Edain carry such joy with so much heaviness weighing down this world? Beyond her was a duo of men, one dark, almost appearing as a man of Gondor, and one more fair. The second had an air about him, the lingering sense of the stars, though his garb was as dark as the one before him. Last came a younger man, one just entering into adult, and the same for the lady bringing up the tail. This man was strange, for he appeared a mix of Gondor and Rohan, leaning more to Rohan, with fair hair and freckles. His bearing was, like the man following the first of the women, was slender, with the beginnings of broading his shoulders. The lady was as fair as as woman of Rohan, yet she was as like an Elven maiden, slender and willowy. Her hair, unlike the two others, was cute just short of the shoulders. The disturbing fact was that he could sense a magic radiating from them, not any of theirs, but one of an outside source. It felt familiar, but it bothered him that he could not place it.

He took note of their acknowledge of Elrond, bowing and curtsying to him, before they saw him.

“This is Mithrandr,” Elrond introduced him, seeing his guests eyeing the wizard, all experienced with testing for friend or foe. He filed that away for further research. “Known to Men as Gandalf the Grey. He is trustworthy, I assure, despite his appearance.”

“It is, in our experience, that all must gain their trust,” said the youngest of the men. “Forgive us, Lord Elrond, if we do not yet believe your words.”

Before Elrond could say anything, Gandalf humphed and came forward.

“That is quite alright with me, young man,” he said. “For your words ring true at this Age.”

He caught the glances they sent each other, and wondered at their momentary confusion at the word 'age.' Then, their leader recovered.

“My Lord Elrond,” he said. “I am afraid that we did not receive an opportunity to introduce ourselves – shall we do so now?”

“Please,” Elrond gave his permission. He had already gained their names through the Hobbits, but this would be for Gandalf's sake.

“I am called Peter the Magnificent,” the leader said. “And these three are my siblings, Susan the Gentle, Edmund the Just, and Lucy the Valiant, beside them are Caspian the Tenth, and his son, Rilian of the Silver Chair, and Eustace, Four's Kin, and Jill of the Bow.”

Elrond nodded and shared a glance with Gandalf. All had received titles and named, strange. Gandalf leaned against his staff, waiting.

“And I am afraid we were not entirely true to your daughter, nor to the Hobbits or to Strider,” Peter continued. His statement caused Elrond raise an eyebrow.

“For this, I plan to rectify. We are not of this world, my Lord, and therefore, though we answered truthfully of traveling from afar, we have just entered into Middle-Earth.”

This enabled a reaction from both Half-Elf and Wizard.

“Not of Middle-Earth, you say?” Elrond questioned. “Gandalf, what do you make of this?”

“I will not say no to it,” Gandalf said, stroking his beard. “It could be so, especially with the amount of magic radiating from their persons. Surely, you felt it, my Lord?”

“I did,” Elrond said. “Now, tell me, you from another world, how is such a thing possible and do you come with a purpose?”

“It is and we do,” Edmund stepped in. “We were sent to your world to offer aide from ours. We are noted warriors in our world, or at least, well-known for our acts and deeds. My siblings and I, along with Caspian the Tenth and his heir, are rulers there, while Eustace and Jill are a beloved Lord and Lady.”

“Rulers?” Elrond raised a brow once more.

“Aye, I am the High King of the land of Narnia,” Peter said. “I am also Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Pavarel. Susan is my sister-queen, also ruler over Narnia, Lady of Cair Paravel and Markswoman, and of the Horn. Edmund and Lucy are my brother-king and sister-queen, Edmund is Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March, while my sister is Lady of the Howe and of the Healing Cordial.”

“Caspian the Tenth, also known as the Telemarine King, reigned over Narnia when my siblings and I could not, and his throne was passed down to his son Rilian.”

“You and brother and sisters ruled over one province all at one time?” Elrond asked.

“Yes, strange though it sounds, and it has not been implemented since,” Peter answered. “For we are the only ones who were capable, much to our own disbelief.”

“And his highness, Caspian the Tenth and his line, stewarded over your kingdom beyond a single generation?” Elrond questioned. “Tell me, how is this?”

At this question, the company looked at each other, and while silent, Gandalf could see their unspoken conversation, the debate. At last, they gave a nod to Edmund, who stepped forward.

“Forgive us, my Lord Elrond,” he said. “For as we are of a different world and as I do not see any further interaction between our world and yours after our purpose is accomplished, this information is requested to be kept our own.”

Elrond lowered his head in deferrance.

“Of course,” he said. “You said you come from your world to offer us aide, and will not return until this aide is accepted?”

“Aye, it is as you say,” Susan said.

At this Elrond turned to Gandalf and cocked a brow, inviting him in. Gandalf drew closer.

“I would not dismiss their offer, my lord,” he advised. “For they have come readily.”

“But they of the Edain,” Elrond protested. “Already -”

“My Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said, and though his voice was causal, immediately, the Narnians felt the blast of magic. Edmund and Rilian took a step back, images of the witches they had faced rising to the surface of their minds' eye, and unwillingly, their hands traveled to the hilts of their swords.

Gandalf, seeing this hostile reaction to his magic, drew it back. The two men relaxed, their gaze now upon Gandalf in wariness.

“They are not from _our_ race of Man,” he said what he meant to say. “They are not held under the same rules, the same weakness. They are an unexpected Gift, do not dismiss it.”

“I suppose you are right, Gandalf,” he said. “Forgive me, your majesties.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Lucy smiled, waving her hand dismissively. Both Elrond and Gandalf almost blinked at her easy dismissal - they had seen the way her brother and the boy had reacted to Gandalf's magic. “We are the ones intruding, you have the right to test us.”

“Very well,” Elrond said. “I will say this to you, there is a council occurring in two days time, if you wish to aide this world, this is where you shall come to offer it. There, I will tell all.”

“Very well, Lord Elrond,” Peter said with a bow. “We shall be there.”

At that moment, Lindir walked in.

“If you will follow me back to your quarters, you can receive rest for the night,” the elf said, as the Narnians looked at him in wonder, for Elrond had given no command, nor anyone else. They left, but before Jill did, she paused and looked at Elrond.

“Thank you for choosing to be at least understanding, Lord Elrond,” she said. “I know it is difficult to trust us, with all of our strange tales, and I know some of them don't say it, or express it as they should, but we are grateful.”

Elrond smiled, one of his gentle ones, at the words of the young woman, who smiled back and disappeared to join her company.

Then he turned to Gandalf.

“What do you think, _mellyn_?”

“A very strange and curious bunch,” Gandalf grumped. “And most unexpected, but I believe this is the will of the Valor, and if they mean to deliver aide, as they seem quite adamant, then I for one will not attempt to halt them. Though... you saw the king Edmund and Caspian's heir's unconscious actions when met with gust of my magic. It worries me, for it means they have dealt with magic and not of the kindest type. I will have to work to gain their trust, if they are to interact with me in these trying times.”

“Indeed,” Elrond nodded, turning to look out, his eyes gazing beyond the walls of his study. Where somewhere in his house, the Narnians were readying themselves for the night's sleep. "These are strange times."

He had much to ponder this night.


	7. The Council

As Elrond said, a council was gathering. The next day, many were entering Imladris. The Narnians caught a company of Dwarves and Edmund smiled at them from his position. Out of all the Narnians, he held a deeper understanding and respect for Dwarves, for the majority of Narnia's population lived in his domain of the western forest. It was a glad surprise to find that Dwarves existed in this world as well. Even if they were taller than the Narnian ones.

Next came a company of Elves, headed by one of white-blonde hair. Last to arrive was a lonely son of Adam, or Man. The Narnians did not initate any conversation or meetings with any of the entering companies, preferring to keep their presence as quiet as possible.

So it was a surprise to many when the Narnians sat awaiting them before any other arrived. They gave greeting to Strider, Gandalf and Frodo, and tolerated the curious looks of the others. But when the lone man came in, he took sight of the Narnian women gathered and halted, his face reddening.

“Women!” he breathed out. All turned to him. “When has the Council of Elrond turned to a gathering of possible suitors?”

There was a hiss of breathe inhaled too quickly, and the gathered council stilled as they realized that the unknown company of eight were taking offense. The dark-haired woman's face turned paler still, while the younger two woman turned to stare at each other, shock and amusement shinning in their eyes.

“You are amiss,” Peter spoke out, his voice was as calm and as strong as summer breeze. But there was danger within his words. “My sisters and their friend are gathered here for the same reason as you, good sir. Their focus is entirely on my company's purpose, and finding suitors is far from their mind.”

“I see, forgive my rashness,” Boromir bowed stiffly before taking his seat, far from the eight. No one quite believed him, and a bitter silence descended upon the council, before Elrond came out.

He entered and almost immediately, seeing all who had come, began to speak.

“Strangers from distant lands, friends of old,” he said, gazing at each other. “Each one has traveled far to meet today in the halls of Imladris. Seeking answers, you find yourselves seated with strangers. Allow me the honor to introduce you now. Here, seated amongst us, are two Hobbits, Halflings of the Shire, Masters Bilbo and Frodo Baggins.”

The Narnians noticed the amazed expression on several of the Council's face, as if they looking upon a mythical creature, or upon someone long lost. Were Hobbits rare in this world? It had not seemed like it when they were interacting with them. Bilbo Baggins, whom the Narnians had met earlier, was Frodo's adopted uncle, and an elderly hobbit.

“Most of you know Gandalf Greyhame, Wandering Wizard, also known as Mithrandr.”

He glanced at the Narnians to catch their reaction, and saw several breathe in swiftly and quietly at the word wizard. The other Elves on the Council caught the sound and wondered at it. So, Elrond surmised, they have had troublesome interactions with wizards before. To their reputation, they did not make a scene.

“Beyond our Wandering Wizard, there are the Mirkwood Elves, sent by their king, Thranduil, by his son, Legolas.”

The blonde elf lowered his head, making a small motion with hand in a greeting. He was pointedly ignoring the Dwarves, who were staring daggers at him. Bad blood between the Elves and Dwarves then? Edmund mused.

“Then Lord Boromir from Gondor,” Elrond introduced the lone man. “Who sits beside the company of Dwarves, Gloin, his brother Oin, and his son, Glimi, hailing from Blue Mountains.”

At this, Lucy caught Legolas sneaking a glance at the youngest Dwarve, and wondered at this. If the Mirkwoods Elves were not in good graces with the Dwarves as it seemed, for the air of hostility surrounded the two races as thickly as any fog, then why would the prince be curious?

“Here, hailing from Imladris, or Rivendell, as some of you may know it from that name, are Glorfindal, Erester, and Strider, a Ranger from the North. We come at last to travelers from afar, Kings and Queens of a distant land called Narnia, not found on any map, and their Lord and Lady.”

The Narnians bowed their heads in greeting. Lucy felt the eyes of Strider upon her and her friends and wondered why, for there was emotions warring within him, the closest something akin to awe, while Boromir stared at them, both in shame and wonder, but also in suspicion. The Dwarves were feigning indifference, and all Narnians but Caspian and Rilian of the Narnians, fought from giggling. Oh! These Dwarves were gold!

The Elves stared at them in wonder and curiosity.

“Narnia?” Boromir questioned. “True, I have never heard of such a name, nor seen it upon any map, but surely there is some mention of it somewhere among the accounts of any of the Three Races?”

“I am afraid not,” Peter said. “For it is not until now that Narnia has come into knowledge of the lands of Middle Earth, and as our borders are well-watched, we are certain that our land has never come into any encounter until of late.”

Boromir sat back, but it was obviously that he was not satisfied. Frodo, seeming star-struck at this new information, still gave them a tentative smile, which Lucy and Jill readily returned.

“These of royalty of Narnia have come to offer aide to us,” Elrond explained. “And you, Boromir, have come for answers. I shall give you it now. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor.”

As soon as he said those words, the Narnians, in unison, shivered violently. It would have been amusing, if not for the others' knowledge of the dreaded land. Bilbo and Frodo, though, could not help asking the Narnians, since they had grown fond of this company.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Lucy said, though she was one of the last to recover. “It's just...” she shivered once, shaking off the lingering dread she felt.

"Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction, none can escape it,” Elrond, seeing his guests recovered, continued. Edmund and Eustace glanced at each other as his use of words. At the same time, a glance was shared between Legolas and Strider. They were familiar with each other, Jill noticed.

“You must unite, or you will fall,” Elrond stated. “Each race is bound to this one fate, this one doom.”

Then looked at Frodo, who almost returned his gaze in despair.

“Bring forth the Ring, Frodo,” he said, sweeping his arm in a graceful arch, gesturing from Frodo to come and at the stone pedestal standing near his chair.

Ring?

The Narnians, curious, for this was the first they heard of any Ring, looked past each other as Frodo came up slowly, and laid down a single ring made of gold. Seeing it, Lucy felt a chill. Like the mesmerizing waters of Gold Water. She clutched at the hilt of her dagger hidden within the folds of her belt. She glanced at the others, saw that Caspian, Edmund and Susan refused to look at it directly, Peter seemed to fighting off a temptation, while Jill was leaning against Eustace in an attempt to keep warm. Rilian was clenching his hand in a fist, tense and still, his jaw locked, his gaze distant, staving off a memory.

The rest of the Council had their own reactions to the Ring, but the most worrisome was that of Boromir, who almost at once looked upon the accessory as one whose thirst was delivered.

“So, it is true,” he said, staring at it like one possessed. Frodo just closed his eyes and breathed out, released of his great burden. All the others cast furtive glances at Boromir, before the man stood to his feet, to the astonishment of all.

“In a dream,” he began, and Edmund glanced at Lucy.She acknowledged him. This would not be good.

“I saw the eastern sky grow dark,”

Lucy straightened. The east? She ruled the east, namely the sea, but the eastern point was hers. For the eastern sky to grow dark, even a world not her own, it was worrisome for her. The Narnians knew of this and they became somber. The Council noticed this change occurring in the Narnians, and wondered at it.

“But in the west, a pale light lingered,”

Edmund bite down a hiss. Of course it was the west!

“Your doom is near at hand,”

Rilian squeezed his eyes shut to shut out the troublesome lyrics, while Caspian found himself fighting against a strange, whispering voice. The Ring! It was the Ring!

“Isilder's Bane is found.”

The Narnians looked up as Boromir seemed to finish the stanza, and realized that he had gotten _out_ of his seat and was moving _towards_ the cursed Ring!

“Isilder's Bane?” Lucy asked, and suddenly wished she hadn't spoken, for her voice was higher than she meant it to be, revealing her tattered nerves. But her question broke Boromir out of his trace, and he looked up just ere touching the Ring.

“Forgive us,” Edmund broke in, seeing everyone glance sharply at his sister. Boromir was shaken and... angered? Why would he be angered.

“For we are not at home here. Pray tell, who was this Isilder?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry (not sorry) about cutting this short. Though, it my style, so... it's your choice. At least I have you at the edge of your seat, right?


	8. Oh, Dwarves....

“Isilder was a Man,” Elrond said, “from when Sauron, the Ring's Maker and Master, yet walked upon Middle Earth as himself. His father was king, and fell under the hand of Sauron at the Last Alliance Between the Free People of Middle Earth, namely between Men and Elves. There Man's king fell, as well as Elven Lord. Here Sauron wore Ring openly on the field of battle, and when all seemed grim and at their last, and Sauron seemed all but victorious, Isilder came forth, bearing his father's broken blade, Narsil, and clove from Sauron the finger of which the ring was borne. At this, Sauron became without form and faded out of sight and sound; but when Man's strength was needed, it failed.”

All of the Middle Earth men in the room tensed at this resounding claim, and several of the Narnians kings did the same. But while the Edain understood at least in part Elrond's clear disdain for their kind, the Narnians were at a loss.

“Isilder did not give up the Ring, and rather than suffer it harm, he declared an heirloom of his line, and kept it, though it could have been unmade on that day. Soon after, Isilder was ambushed and the Ring betrayed him, therefore, gaining the title of Isilder's Bane.”

The Narnians glanced at each other at the end of this story. Edmund mentally shook his head. So, the races represented here are all divided against each other. The Elves do not trust the Dwarves and are disappointed in Man, and Man feel bitterness against Elf and Dwarf, though their reasons are unclear. Only the Hobbits seem to be unaffected by all of this hatred and mistrust. Was this their hope, that even in this world, the smallest and least of these must bring together the strong, but divided races?

“Isilder's Bane,” whispered Boromir, and all realized that he was still standing there, before the pedestal, and staring down at the Ring. His hand reached out once more, and the Narnians leaped to their feet, as did Elrond, their eyes wide in terror.

“Boromir!” cried Elrond. Gandalf leaned forward, and suddenly his voice sounded out in a dark tongue. He seemed to be reciting something, but whatever it was, it caused Lucy to cry aloud and move to cover her ears with her hands, and fell back.

“Lucy!” screamed her siblings, turning around at her stumble. Only Jill seemed to be able bear this terrible noise, though her knees were shaking beneath her skirt. She saw that the Elves seemed to be affected as Lucy was, and Elrond actually had to cover his head with a hand, and the Mirkwood Elves cowered away from Gandalf, their eyes wide, while the Dwarves cried aloud.

The sky seemed to go dark, and the air thick, and the Narnians could feel the malice there, seeping in through the sheltered land. Boromir broke out of his trance and returned to his seat during that time, looking around as man awakened from a troubled sleep. And then, Gandalf was done, and the sky returned to its beautiful blue with crackling of thunder. Lucy gave a gasping breathe and leaned forward. Elrond straightened and glared at Gandalf, the Narnians doing the same, especially Edmund. The wizard has caused his sister - his dear sister, who loved him even after all he had done - pain.

“Never before has any voice _dared_ utter that tongue here in Imladris,” scolded Elrond. Gandalf returned to his seat, and Edmund took somewhat pleasure to seem him so weakened. Dark magic never comes without a cost.

“I do not ask your parden, Lord Elrond,” he said, to the surprise of all, for surely that was a crossing of steep boundaries. “For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in ever corner of the West! The Ring is altogether _evil_.”

Elrond seated himself. He had also be drained at the sudden rite.

“On that we can agree,” Peter spoke up. “Never have I seen my sister so drained and it takes much to cause her to stumble. What must we do? What aide can Narnia give to Middle Earth so that this evil thing may be destroyed!”

Boromir was shaking his head.

“It is a gift,” he whispered. All spun towards him, the Narnians wondering at his stubbornness to take the Ring. Had he heard nothing of what was said, of what he was doing? What had been done to Lucy?

“A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?”

The Narnians stared at him, struck dumb at his words.

“H-”

“Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor,” continued Boromir, not noticing that he had interrupted Edmund. “Kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands made safe.”

“O-” Eustace made move to speak, but Boromir ignored him.

“Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him.”

“You cannot wield it!” Strider made his first words in the Council. “None of us can!”

All eyes turned on him, and the Narnians thought they saw a twitch of his jaw, as if he had been trying hard not to be noticed. But they were thankful to him, for it stopped Boromir from speaking, and he had already spoken too much. Their sister had been mentally attacked!

“The One Ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master,” Strider said further. Boromir blinked at him. He had not seen him when he had entered, dismissing the less-nobly clad man at the sight of the women.

“And what would a Ranger know of these matters?” Boromir questioned. He spat the word of Ranger in disgust. Strider, seeing the hostility, made to back away, to the astonishment of the Narnians. However, Legolas jumped to his feet, solidifying that he had known the Man beforehand.

“This is no mere Ranger,” he said, his voice was strong, yet young, soothing. Now, it was lit with a fire, a chance to fend off foes from a friend. The Narnians approved.

“He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn,” he stated, “You owe him your allegiance.”

The Narnians blinked and Jill murmured to Eustace.

“I thought his name was Strider.”

Eustace just shrugged. The fact that a son of a steward of Gondor owed Strider – now Aragorn – his allegiance meant that the man was more than he seemed. The names were unfamiliar to him, but they meant everything to the rest of the Council, for the Hobbits and Boromir turned in shock to the Man, who only sighed.

“Aragorn,” breathed Boromir. Aragorn looked up and met Boromir's eyes with a steady gaze, and for a moment, the Narnians saw the fires of royalty lit beneath his eyes.

“This is Isilder's Heir?” questioned the Steward's son.

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” affirmed Legolas. The Narnians started, and Frodo seemed just as surprised. Heir to a throne? A hidden king-to-be? Well, this was interesting.

Aragorn raised a mollifying hand, and spoke the strange Elvish tongue to Legolas. Legolas stared at Aragorn for a moment, then sat down. Boromir made his way to his own seat.

“Gondor has no king,” he said. “Gondor needs no king.”

The Narnians' eyes flashed dangerous bright. They could not escape the stanza that followed them for all of their adventures in Narnian. A Son of Man must be seated on the throne. All but Boromir seemed to notice the change in the Narnians' air, as if something Boromir said had offended them.

“Aragorn is right,” Gandalf slid easily into using that name, and the Narnians' refocused on the meeting. “We cannot use It.”

“You have only one choice,” Elrond stated, and his statement confused the Narnians. Only one? Why, if you thought about something long enough, multiple options became open, but as they were not supposed to interfere with the plan, only aide in any place they could, they held their tongues.

“The Ring must be destroyed.”

Oh... yes, that is the one choice. The Narnians heartily agreed with this decision. To use it seemed foolish, not to mention suicidal.

“What are we waiting for?” said Glimi, and stalked forward, bringing out a beautifully crafted battle axe. Lucy and Jill yelped as, without a word, the Dwarf struck down upon the Ring. But the Narnian women were also close to laughter. Oh! The goodness of Dwarves!

But as the ax struck the Ring, a flash of a flame-wreathed eye jumped upon everyone, and the Narnians, forgetting themselves and their place, called out to Aslan in their terror. There was a ringing sound, and then the flash was over, and Glimi was upon the ground, his axe broken. Everyone stared at he Dwarf sprawled across the ground, the Elves close to laughter themselves.

The Narnians straightened themselves, and Lucy took note how Frodo still whimpered softly, and that Gandalf was looking at him in great concern.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Glimi, son of Gloin,” Elrond said, with a spark of smothered laughter. “By an craft we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom, and only there it can be unmade.”

“It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came,” he continued. “One of you must do this.”

A heavy stillness descended upon the council as the last of Elrond's words rang out.

“As Lord Elrond says,” Peter began, his voice soft, and all turned to him. “One of you must do this quest, but I assure you, we will not allow the chosen one to go alone. Narnia has come to offer her aide and will deliver it.”

“What do your words mean to any of us?” Boromir argued. Jill fought to groan aloud, instead, she shared a frustrated look with Eustace.

“You are strangers in a strange land,” he said. “We do not know what your true intents are! Never has your land been heard of, and now you waltz in, at the end of days, declaring that it is your right to offer aide when you have not ever before.”

The Narnians glanced at each other, then sat back. They had said their piece. There was steel in their eyes, however, at the continuous slights as them.

“And one does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir said, casting his eyes about the area. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs, there is evil there that does not sleep, and the great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust, the very air you breathe a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this and it should fail if one would go with naive strangers whom have never walked upon the land. It is folly.”

His voice had gone from accusatory, to desperate. The Narnians bowed their heads, some deep in thought at the dark description, while still others felt the despairing spirit of Middle Earth attempting to settle within their hearts.

But Legolas shot once more to his feet, his hope shinning bright, and the Narnians looked up at the prince as he admonished the man from Gondor.

“Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!”

He seemed to have wanted to speak further, but the Dwarves, namely Glimi became provoked by the Elf's unwittingly harsh words.

“And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?” He growled.

“Oh dear,” whimpered Lucy as the Elf spun around to glare at the Dwarf. Why? Why is it always Dwarves?

“And if we fail, what then?” Boromir demanded. “What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

None but a few were listening to his valid questions, for his former speeches had caused him to become discredited. Instead, all became focused upon Legolas and Glimi and the Dwarf bounced out of his seat to stand before the Elf. The two stood glaring at the other.

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!”

“Beds and toadstools,” Eustace glowered as the rest of the Mirkwood Elves, and several from Lord Elrond's own stood at the blatent words. “Does it always have to be Dwarves?”

Aragorn just sighed. It became worse.

“Never trust an Elf!” Glimi continued.

“Oh, he didn't!” hissed Jill, and now Legolas and Elrond were hard-pressed to keep their councilors from tearing into the Dwarves. The tension that had shimmered had now exploded, like a dormant volcano returning to life.

Lucy groaned, feeling a sudden weight. She caught sight of Frodo from the other side of the room, as he watched as the arguing climaxed even higher. And now Gandalf was in among them, berating Boromir, scowling at Glimi. Lucy followed Frodo's line of sight, and realized that he was staring, wide-eyed at the Ring, as if seeing something no one else could. Elrond returned to his seat and bent in a position reminiscent of a slouch, and covered his closing eyes with one hand, sighing deeply. The Narnians stared as the empty area between the circle of seats became full of harsh words and tones. Lucy drew in a deep breathe, ready to tell off all of them, for they were all grown, men or otherwise, when Frodo moved. He slid out of his seat and approached the pedestal, but he did not come near the Ring, instead, he turned to the face the belligerent crowd.

“I will take it!” he cried, and the Narnians who had not seen him move all looked directly at his small figure. No one seemed to hear him, for he had to cry out a second time.

“I will take it!”

The noise began to die, and Frodo said a third time.

“I will take the Ring to Mordor.”

And now all had returned to silence, one of surprise. Elrond raised his head and straightened once more.

“Though,” Frodo added, his face aflame with determination and abashed fear. “I do not know the way.”

“That's how all journeys start,” Lucy smiled at him. “As offered, we of Narnia will go with you, and we can find the way together.”

There was a moment of quietness, as all took in Lucy's words. Were they really going to send out a lone Hobbit and a company of outsiders to accomplish this task laid out before them?

“I shall help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear,” Gandalf said in the softest voice the Narnians had ever heard him used, and they realized that this wizard actually cared very deeply about Frodo. Gandalf came away from where had once stood arguing with Boromir to put a supporting hand on the Hobbit's shoulder.

“By my life or death I can protect you,” Aragorn said, standing to his feet and walking over to the two, addressing Frodo. “I will.”

He knelt down before Frodo.

“You have my sword,” he vowed. Peter saw the glances between Gandalf and Elrond, how they spoke a whole conversation within it. Somehow, with this transaction, something had occurred to Aragorn. Legolas, at once, as soon as Aragorn finished, stepped forward.

“And you have my bow,” he said, coming over to stand with the three. Not to be outdone, Glimi stepped forward.

“And my ax!”

Jill could barely hold in her snicker as Legolas looked away with a soft sigh – the only sign of his extreme discomfort with the Dwarf. Caspian, seeing a chance to have some fun through Glimi, gave a bark of laughter.

“I hold this in only the purest of jests, but you mean the ax shattered upon the ground?”

Glimi began to stutter, and Legolas did not hold back a smirk this time, his eyes speaking volumes of gratitude towards the Narnian King. It stopped when Boromir slowly came forward.

“You carry the fate of us all, little one,” he told Frodo. “If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done.”

The Narnians shared a glance with each other, but Lucy and Jill cried out before bursting into quiet laughter at a sudden shout. And Sam, good old Samwise Gamgee, shot out of the bushes behind a small raised garden plot, startling even Elrond, who leaned back at the Hobbit's arrival.

“Here!” the blonde hobbit declared, as he swooped underneath Aragorn's arm to stand beside Frodo. “Mr. Frodo's not goin' anywhere without me.”

“No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you,” Elrond retorted. “Even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.”

The soft scolding was enough for Sam, who breathed out slowly, while Frodo only turned his head to smile fondly at his friend.

“Wait! We're coming too!” came another voice, and everyone twisted around to see Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took racing down the stairs.

At Merry's cry, Edmund, Lucy, Jill and Eustace took one look at Elrond's bewildered expression and burst into laughter. They quickly quieted down at the sharp glances of Peter and Susan. Right. They were in a serious council. One just interrupted by Hobbits.

“You'll have to tie us up in a sack and send us back to Hobbiton to stop us!” Merry said defiantly, as he and Pippin stand in front of the others. He crossed his arms in a show of his determination, while Pippin looked at him and copied it.

“Anyway,” he said. “You need people with intelligence on this sort of mission... quest... thing...”

He raised his chin, daring anyone to cross him, instead, it only caused the Narnians more reason to peal out once more, especially when Merry turned him with a whispered.

“Well, that rules you out, Pip.”

Peter waited until Pippin, who was nodding in agreement with Merry until he realized just want he had said, stared at the other Hobbit in shocked faux-betrayal, and his siblings had dried their joyous tears, before standing to his feet. The others, seeing their High King rise, did the same. Peter made his way to Frodo, making and keeping the Hobbit's eyes.

“Frodo Baggins,” he said. “As my queen-sister said, we Narnians are with you and shall see you to the end.”

Then they turned, and Elrond appraised them with a steely eye.

“Seventeen companions,” he said. “Nine from Middle Earth, eight from Narnia. So be it! You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring!”

“Great!” Pippin said, bouncing in excitement. “Where are we goin'?”

Everyone looked down at him in surprise, and Jill bite her lip in an effort to avoid bursting into laughter again. Oh, the preciousness of Hobbits!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, so there's that! Man, that was exhausting!  
> I really do enjoy Boromir, and I will try to cast him in a better light, but it might be difficult. I am sorry for all those who love his character. I will try to keep him true. I will try to keep everyone's character true, and not too OOC. You may have noticed but I am mixing both book and movie canon, so please bear with me. It may become confusing at times. If there are any questions or anything you want to bring up, just alert me to this. I want to do my best.  
> Thank you all!


	9. Aslan or Eru?

Unlike the Narnians' readiness to travel, the rest of the Fellowship were not so fortunate. Elrond granted them a week to prepare, much to the Narnian kings disgruntlement. That night, the Narnians met with the rest of the Fellowship to bond over the evening meal.

“So, you are not from Middle Earth?” Frodo finally inquired when conversation was at a near standstill.

“Yes, please forgive us, Frodo,” Lucy replied. “We had not wanted to reveal ourselves to anyone. Middle Earth is a very different land than our own land of Narnia, and we were unsure at that time.”

“Wait, they're not from here?” Pippin looked up at the Narnians in shock. “You're not from around here?”

“No, we aren't,” Jill told him, smiling softly. “We are from a distant land, called Narnia, and it is different than this land, but for a few things.”

“Like what, pray tell?” Aragorn said, leaning forward.

“We have Dwarves,” Edmund said. Legolas twitched. Edmund ignored him and continued on. “They are very good with crafting.”

“So are these ones,” Glimi grumbled.

“Yes,” Peter smiled. “I could see that, Master Glimi.”

“What else?” Merry asked.

“Oh, some of the animals talk!” Lucy said. The natives of Middle Earth blinked at her, and Pippin gasped.

“No! Really?”

“Really,” Lucy nodded. “Unfortunately, because of this fact, and that they are wiser than their speechless kin, they are easily misunderstood by those new to Narnia, and oft more than not, frighten visitors. It is the reason why none travel with us.”

“Yes, I can understand why,” Aragorn said softly. “Tell me, Queen Lucy, you were more affected by the Ring and of the short incantation of Black Speech. Are you aware of auras of evil, as the Elves are?”

“If directly exposed to such malice, I am commonly undone,” Lucy admitted, “But once I am exposed, I am able to stand firm against it and not adversely affected a second time.”

The natives of Middle Earth stared at her, astonished.

They continued in this manner for some time before they realized that both Susan and Legolas had been silent. The Elf was troubled with a matter of the mind, while Susan was content to allow the others to converse.

“ _Mellyn,_ Queen Susan, why so quiet?” Gandalf questioned, noticing the silence of the two. Legolas looked up, startled out of his thoughts.

“Forgive me,” the Elf said. “My mind is full tonight. Not in a great while has such an quest taken place. Also, it may not be pleasant.”

“No, it will not,” Peter said, while Edmund narrowed his eyes at the Elf.

“Master Elf,” he said. “If you are suggesting that this undertaking is not for my sister-queens, nor of the Lady Jill, you find that they have a strength beneath their soft demeanor.”

“And though they have caused their brothers and companions some weight of worry,” Peter said. “I would voyage such a venture without their presences. Susan, dear sister, perhaps you should show the Elf the action of your bow?”

“Aye,” Susan nodded. “In the morn, perhaps. Pardon my silence, both here and in the council.”

“Aye, you spoke nary a word,” Caspian said. “What troubles you, gentle queen?”

“I have spent much time away from you,” Susan said. “And we are in a new land, to be in such, I am afraid I have yet to gather myself. To tell you, friends, I am glad for the respite, though you may be ready.”

The natives of Middle Earth cast a worried glance among them.

“Excuse me,” Susan said, rising to her feet. Immediately, the men made to rise, and she had to wave to them to keep them from doing so. “I must compose myself in order to complete the purpose to my fullest. I shall retire early.”

“As shall I,” Lucy said, and when Susan made a small noise of protest, Lucy waved her off. “Good-night, brothers, Caspian, Rilian, those of this land, my sister and I have much to discuss.”

“Is the archery contest still happenin'?” Pippin inquired.

“Of course,” Susan gave him one of her smiles, before disappearing back to their rooms with Lucy close behind.

“Have I caused discomfort among your sisters?” Legolas wondered.

“No, no, you're fine,” Jill told him. “It's just as Susan said, she has not seen us for some time. There was ah, um... something that came up that caused us to separate for a long while. Before we came to your land, she had just returned to us. Truly, she had thought us dead, as did we, concerning her. But, do not fear for her, for she will be ready in time for the quest.”

“This is why it is better for women to stay at home,” Boromir, who had also been quiet, suddenly spoke up. Jill's face flared red.

“Excuse me!” she cried. “I am a noble of Narnia, and did not come easily to it. I have saved our land, time and time again!”

“She's right,” Rilian and Eustace said as one.

“In fact,” Rilian said. “Because of her, I was able to return to Narnia. I was to rise to the throne after my father... abdicated, in a way, but before I could, my mother was poisoned and I was stolen away by a witch. I was put under a spell of forgetfulness and of submission, so that I forgot who I was and would remain loyal to my captor.”

“I remember those times,” Caspian drew a hand over his face. “Your mother gone to Aslan's Country because her wound was too much for our own healers, and you missing. Ah, the grief that held my heart at those time! And then, right before I decided to give up the throne to another and join your mother, you appeared!”

“What is this Aslan's Country?” Frodo asked. “It sounds a lot like the Elves' Valinor.”

“Did I mention His Country?” Caspian gasped, looking at his companions, who nodded their heads solemnly.

“Oh, forgive me,” Caspian said. “It slipped my mind, as all things do, when Rilian's mother and my wife are concerned.”

“It's okay,” Peter assured him. “It would happen some time, best it happened now, before the journey.”

“So, Aslan's Country?” inquired Aragorn.

“Aye, I don't know about this Valinor,” Edmund said. “But in Narnia, if one sailed far enough east, they would find at last a country belonging to Being known as Aslan to us. It is His Country, and there, all Narnians go at the end of their days.”

“Ai,” Legolas said. “It is just like our Valinor, though we must travel ever westward. But it seems that all are welcomed there, and not only the Elves, such as it is in Valinor.”

“Perhaps Valinor and Aslan's Country are the same!” said Pippin, excited.

“I doubt it,” Edmund shook his head. “For we, all of us, have lived in Aslan's Country for some time now, exempting Susan.”

“Just a thought,” shrugged the Hobbit.

“Aye,” said Edmund. “One good enough to ask Aslan when we return back.”

“You speak as reverantly of this Aslan as we speak of Eru,” Legolas commented. As soon as the Elf spoke the name of Eru, the Narnians suddenly felt the warm breathe of their Lion upon their necks, and all gasped. The native members, startled at this, reached out.

“What ails ye?” Aragorn asked, slipping into an old version of the common speech, as he was wont to do.

“Nothing,” Caspian answered, coming out of it. “But that name! You felt it, too, did you not?”

“Aye,” Peter nodded. “I did. Do you think, Ed?”

“I believe so, Peter,” Edmund said.

“What are you on about?” Gandalf inquired. The way they were speaking made him nervous, for he could not read them at all.

“I think – _we_ think,” Peter said, after seeing the nods of those there. “That our Aslan, and your Eru are the same!”

“Surely not!” Gandalf protested.

“I am certain of it,” Peter replied, keeping his gaze firm under Gandalf's scrutiny. After one meet the gaze of Aslan, there would no one else that could intimidate him again. As if confirming his words, the doors suddenly flung open and Lucy half-stumbled and half-ran into the room. All turned towards her, and those nearest made to assist her.

“Pete! Ed! You must come quickly!” she said. “He's here!”

“What?!”

All the Narnians bolted to their feet.

“Truly?”

“Yes!” she said. The natives of Middle Earth saw her face, and it was almost glowing with hope and joy. “He's here! Something happened, I don't know what, but He's speaking with Susan at this very moment!”

“Has He asked for us?” Rilian asked.

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “But He cannot stay for long, and if you are to see Him, you must hurry!”

And with that, she turned back and hurried back the way she had come, and the rest of the Narnians hasted after her.

Those of Middle Earth made after them, wondering at this bizarre behavior. They found themselves in the housing quarters, and as they drew ever nearer, both Gandalf and Legolas could feel something strange. Sometime akin to life, or hope.

“Your friends draw near,”

And Legolas stumbled at the voice, even as Gandalf froze. He knew that voice, though he had never heard it before.

“Eru! Eru!” Legolas cried out, as the others gathered around him.

“Ah, so, I am discovered. Farewell, children.”

The was the feeling of wind, and then, the growing sensation was gone. But it had been done, and Legolas stayed upon the ground, tears gathering. He barely heard Gandalf sending the hobbits, Boromir and Glimi away. He meant to send Aragorn away, but Legolas clutched at his friend and would not release him.

“What is this?”

Elrond's voice came clear through Legolas' mind.

“What has happened? Thranduilion?”

“He has been affected by a presence that had descended on Imladris,” Gandalf said. “I do not think it will incur any ill effects.”

“Oh, no! Legolas!”

The Narnians had arrived, hearing the communication just up the hall, and the presence of Eru was bright around them. As they did, Elrond reeled.

“What is this?” he said, reaching out to support himself on the nearest pillar. “Stay where you are!”

The Narnians halted. Lucy and Susan brought their hands to their mouths at the scene before them. Of a distraught Legolas being supported by Aragorn, while Gandalf was bending over the prince of Mirkwood.

“Oh, dear!” cried Lucy. She seemed torn, reaching out to comfort, and yet, frozen in obedience to Elrond's command.

“What spell have you wrought?” Gandalf demanded. Steel appeared in the eyes of the Narnians.

“We have wrought no spell,” Susan answered. “What you feel the presence of the One Who sent us here, to offer Middle Earth aide.”

“ _Mithrandr,_ ” Legolas gasped out, unable to talk in anything but his native tongue. “ _This is the presence of Eru._ ”

“ _Are you certain, Thranduilion?_ ” Elrond questioned. Legolas nodded. The shaking had slowed, and he was beginning to return to himself.

All the Narnians caught were the names, but by the manner of the Elven speech, they were already guessing that Legolas had guessed Aslan's name in this world. Elrond stepped back to stand with his back against the pillar, wishing to face the Narnians, but uneasy at approaching them while this heavy presence remained upon them.

“Are you saying _Eru_ has called you out of Narnia to aide in the Quest of the Ring?” he questioned. The Narnians shuffled, speaking to each other only through their eyes, before Jill stepped forward. Elrond narrowed his eyes, and she halted, holding up her hands in surrender.

“I suppose you could say that,” she said. “Yes, Eru sent us. We apologize, we did not know of your sensitivity to His presence.”

“We shall be more cautious, My Lord,” Edmund spoke up. By now, the presence had diminished enough for Elrond to straighten and his feet were steady enough to carry him. He did so, and turned to Legolas.

“ _How do you fare, Thranduilion?_ ” he asked.

“ _I am fine,_ ” Legolas stated, forgoing Gandalf's out held hand to return to his feet on his own. Even the Narnians settled their eyes upon him in disbelief.

“Ugh,” Jill suddenly announced. “What is it with males and their need to hide weaknesses?”

“Truly, tis a mystery,” Susan replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she replied in the old grammar. Lucy giggled behind her hand, when her brothers pretended to be affronted, while the Elves seemed to be so.

“I beg your pardon?” Rilian started, huffing. “We do no such thing.”

At this, the girls burst out laughing, with Jill's sounding like silver bells, and Lucy's like the laughing breeze, and Susan's was a bubbling brook.

“Dear sisters! Jill!” Edmund said, astonished. “It is not amusing, you wound us mortally!”

“Oh, I am sure, dear brother,” Lucy replied. The moment of laughter passed, and she turned to Legolas.

“Are you quite sure you are without injury?”

“Quite,” Legolas answered. He ignored the scanning eye of Elrond.

“Now, to business,” Gandalf said. “Why was the presence of Eru upon you?”

The Narnians fell silent, again speaking to each other with only their eyes. Elrond could sense their need for privacy.

“If you fear the openness of our present location,” he offered. “Then we can retire to the library or to my own study.”

“That would be for the best,” Peter said. “Lead on, My Lord.”

The group followed the Lord of Imladris, with Aragorn staying close to Legolas, much to the young Elf prince's amusement and annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I can't believe I have done this. I did not mean to do this. I had planned for the unveiling of Aslan and his name to come later, and not so soon. But, as stories are wont to do, it ran away from me, and now, I can't think of anything better where it would come.  
> Oh well...  
> But keep reading! It just keeps getting better, or worse. Hopefully better.


	10. The Quiet Before the Storm

“Now, pray tell, of why does Eru's presence descend upon you, distant travelers from the land of Narnia?” Elrond questioned. They were seated around one table, and Elrond was scrutinizing the Narnians. 

“As you know, my kin and friends hail from afar,” Peter said, taking note of Aragorn's and Legolas' presences. They did not know of the Narnians' true home. Thankfully, it was only those two, as Elrond had called Lindir to dismiss the belated arrival of the other persons of the Fellowship of the Ring. The Hobbits, Dwarve, and Boromir had been led back to their quarters after being informed of an altered verision of the situation. No need to alarm the others.

“And there is a being we know as Aslan,” he continued. “He has told us he has many names, and he is known by a different one when he is not in our land. Here, it seems his name is Eru.”

The reaction was immediate, the natives of Middle Earth were astonished, and showed it in their own ways.

“You, you know Eru personally?” Legolas gasped. “B-But He is above.”

“Yes,” Lucy smiled. “He is above, and he often terrifying. There is no one who can come before him without their knees knocking, as it is said in our land. But he is also very kind.”

At this, the Elves glanced at each other, choosing to remain silent.

“He came to me and my sister,” Susan said. “After we retired, he was concerned, for, as you well know, I was quiet this eve. Fear not for me any longer, for I am quite myself as of some time ago.”

“We are glad of it, Lady Queen,” Aragorn said. "But - _how?_ "

"We shall tell you our story of meeting Aslan another time," Lucy said. "But not for tonight. It is a wondrous story, and good for a night beside a campfire. Not here, not at the start of our journey, where we are still new to a new land."

“Then, if you are still unready to tell of your past ventures, and all is well now,” Elrond said, standing to his feet. “Then I advise we retire to our chambers, for the awaiting quest will need all of your strength intact.”

“Very well, we shall take your advise, Lord Elrond,” the Narnians said, rising as well.

* * *

That next afternoon found Susan and Legolas in the archery range, with the natives of the Fellowship on one side, while the Narnians congregated on the other.

“Come on, Susan!” Lucy cheered.

“Yeah!” Jill joined in. “Show them what the Markswoman Queen of Narnia is capable of!”

“Go on, Su!” Peter said, widely smiling.

“Come on, Elf,” grumped the Dwarf on the other side. “Ye can't let a little girl get the best of you.”

Legolas shot the Dwarf a glare.

The Hobbits seemed hesitate to cheer for either contestant, the younger ones wanting to cheer, but unsure of whom to give their favor. Frodo was content to just watch, while Sam sat nearby, eyes wide. Boromir was watching, but the Narnians could tell he was more in favor of the Elf, though he was wary of both.

Up above, Elrond and Gandalf looked down upon the contest in amusement, yet, eager themselves to see what the Narnians could prove of themselves.

“Bows up!” Aragorn cried, raising an arm. “Arrows ready?”

Immediately, the bow of Mirkwood and the bow of Narnia were ready, arrows on taunt string.

“Target ready?”

At an afirmative glance from each of the archers, Aragorn continued.

“Let fly!”

Twin whistles, each of their own frequency, sang through the air. Twin _thunks_ , in harmony with one another, everything else stilled. Aragorn made to move in order to check the targets, but there was warning yell, and he stopped. Now the whistles of arrows came furiously, as Legolas and Susan pitched skill and against skill. The shrill cries of arrows let loose echoed throughout the valley, and soon, not only the Fellowship had gathered to watch the contest between Queen and Elf. It did not end until both quivers were empty, Legolas emptying just before Susan.

“Ed?” Susan asked, as Legolas turned to Aragorn. The two judges started to confer together.

“Wow, that was incredible!” Pippin cried, pumping his arms in excitement. “Wasn't it, Merry?”

“Aye, it certainly was,” Merry nodded. “These Narnians and the Elves certainly know what they're doing. What do you think, Frodo?”

“It was an excellent show,” Frodo commented. Sam nodded. Boromir was standing there, astonished. Never had he seen such shooting. He had expected such from the fabled tales of the Elves, but from a woman? She seemed to have matched the Elf in accuracy, if not speed.

“Good shooting, Su,” Peter cheered. “Master Elf, you certainly know your craft.”

Legolas bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment, before turning to Aragorn as he and the second king of Narnia began to near.

“Who won?” Lucy and Pippin inquired at the same time.

“It was a great contest between the bows of Narnia and of Mirkwood,” Aragorn said. “King Edmund and I have taken advise from each other, and here is what we have uncovered.”

“The victor of this round goes to Legolas Thranduilion,” Edmund said. Cheering erupted from all around. The Narnians smiled, and Susan bowed her head in Legolas' direction, who did the same.

“Well met, gentle queen,” he said.

“I have not said all I meant to say,” Edmund interrupted. “Yes, this round goes to Legolas Thranduilion, however, the elder Queen of Narnia, um, Aragorn?”

“The elder Queen of Narnia has proved herself well established in the art of the bow and quiver,” Aragorn spoke up. “The Prince of Mirkwood may have passed, but she has surpassed the Edain with ease. Her skill is equal to that of the Galadhram.”

Elrond and Gandalf, hearing this, exchanged a glance, while whispers began down below.

“I expected nothing less from a Queen whose title is Markswoman,” Legolas gave a small smile. “I am glad to find some one of like-skill.”

“Ah,” Susan smiled. “What about my lord Aragorn? It is said he is also quite skilled with a bow.”

“That may be true,” Aragorn said, as the crowd began to disperse. “That I can claim some small skill, for I was trained by the Elves here in Imladris, but it is nothing compared to the famed bow of the prince of Mirkwood, nor of the enchanted bow of Narnia.”

“Enchanted?” Susan breathed in sharply. The Narnians stilled.

“Fear not, Narnian Queen,” Aragorn said. “No harm is found, for we knew of its enchantment 'fore this contest. If foul was to be called, it would not be on this.”

Susan breathed a sign of relief.

“I thank you,” she whispered. “For it is not my wish to cheat victory out of its rightful owner.”

“It is well known, for you of a kind and gentle heart,” Aragorn assured her.

“Alright,” Eustace called. “Now that that's over. What's next?”

“Sword practice, my Lord,” Boromir responsed. “I shall be teaching these young hobbits the art of the sword. Any are welcome.”

“Then my kin and I will gladly enter,” Eustace said, stepping forward. “Come on, Ed, shall we show how Narnians duel?”

“Ay,” Edmund sighed, covering his face. “Oh, alright, one match only, Eustace.”

“As you wish, my king,” Eustace bowed, his voice cheeky.

“Best sit down, good sirs,” Lucy spoke up. “This may take same time, but it is worth the wait.”

“Ah, but nothing shall ever pass Peter's duel against Lord Miraz,” Edmund called out.

“Just get on with it!” Peter shouted back, coming to sit down beside the Hobbits on the bench. He slid down to sit down the ground, so that his head came just horizontal to the Hobbits' shoulders.

“You are in for a treat, Master Hobbit,” Peter said to Frodo. “My brother and cousin are quite well versed in combat.”

And they were. With Caspian and Rilian as refrees, Edmund and Eustace faced off with each other. The rest of the Fellowship watched on with interest, especially Aragorn and Boromir, for they were curious of the strange art the Narnians were displaying. The Narnians favored wide, sweeping arcs, keeping their opponents at least a good foot and a half away at all times. Aragorn and Boromir were also keeping mind of possible methods to teach to the Narnians, for though a different sword art was useful, it could also be a danger. Then Aragorn caught the subtle difference between Eustace's and Edmund' sword art.

“They were trained by two different mentors,” he stated. Peter, hearing him, nodded.

“My brother and I were trained before my cousin,” he said. “And my cousin was forced to take lessons in extreme circumstances, for the only practice he received before he achieved the title of Lord was that upon adventures and quests.”

“Why is this, was there no one to teach him the ways of the sword in times of rest?” Boromir inquired. Peter shook his head.

“By the fate wrought to each of us, it was not possible,” he said. “As it is with Caspian and Rilian, if they were to duel, you would also note their art is different than even of my kin's, for their blood is not of ours, and their lineage is from another land than even Narnians.”

“You will have to unlearn much of what you have been taught,” Aragorn forewarned. Peter nodded.

“My kin and my friends know of this, and they have prepared themselves,” he said. “I suspect for this reason is part at fault for Eustace's duel with Edmund now, for he will not be able to fight in the style of Narnia for some future, me thinks.”

Aragorn and Boromir nodded, and turned their full attention back upon the match. Suddenly, Edmund lunged, and attacked his cousin fiercely. The change caused the swords to clang, their tempo increasing as Edmund increased his speed. Eustace's eyes widened as he recognized the move, and Aragorn saw him attempt to break out of Edmund's deadly combination, but it was too late. Edmund gave a warring cry, and Eustace yelped, falling back.

“Hold!” Caspian and Rilian cried at the same time. “Edmund claims victory!”

Edmund gave a smile, and sheathed his sword, before offering his hand. Eustace took it and dusted himself off, for he had fallen upon the sand covered grounds.

“Good match, cuz,” he said, holding out a hand. Edmund smiled, and took it.

“You, too.”

“Yeah, but why did you have to do that!”

“Do what?” Edmund inquired, feigning ignorance.

“Your technique, your favored one, the one you created,” Eustace growled. Edmund laughed.

“For the same reason why you called me out, my dear lord,” he answered.

“What was that technique?” Boromir called. “I have not seen any like it.”

“Surely, you have not,” Peter said. “For my brother created it. If faced with a single opponent, he will attack with such skill, overwhelming them until, as you saw, they are forced to drop their weapon or dare being cut by their own blade as well as my brother's. He has yet to divulge the secret.”

“Fascinating,” Legolas' clear voice broke in. “It is a good technique, and most surprising for a Man such as himself. It is his manner that drives his sword, relying on surprising his opponent. On that note, I have no need for the practice of the sword. I am off to see to our horses.”

“Have you any qualms of one of us joining you?” Lucy asked. Legolas glanced at her.

“Not at all, Queen Lucy,” he answered. “Come, you may see to your horses, while I do the same for the horses of Mirkwood.”

They traveled in quietness for a bit, before Lucy felt the need to speak.

“So, Mirkwood?” She questioned. Legolas let his head drop slightly, thinking of his home.

“Mirkwood, my home, used to be a great forest,” he said. “Greenwood, my forefathers called it, not but the last hundred years has the name been changed to Mirkwood.”

“How come, my lord?” Lucy inquired, her voice relaying a want to understand and to comfort.

“Darkness has descended,” Legolas answered. “Death and decay run rampant, and only I have been accepted to depart from my father's lands.”

“Oh dear,” Lucy sighed. “Then my siblings, my kin, and my friends are sorely needed here it seems.”

“It is good to know that Eru has not abandoned us to the Nameless Fear,” Legolas admitted. “Here are the stables, good queen.”

“So they are,” Lucy smiled. At the sound of her voice, the Narnian horses stuck out their heads and greeted her, Hwyh leading. Legolas smiled at the sight.

“They are happy to see you,” he said. “That does you and your company good. If your horses call out to you, then you are good rulers indeed.”

“Ay, look there,” Lucy said, nodding to a stall. Legolas let a smile cross his lips at the sight of his faithful stallion looking out to greet him. He strode over to the horse, whispering to it, before calling out to the rest of the Mirkwood steeds. They responded at once, but in quiet compliance. He turned when he heard the youngest queen sigh.

“Is something amiss, good queen?”

“Oh, no,” Lucy said, waving her hand dismissively, although she was still brushing her hand through Hwyh's mane. “It's just the Elvish tongue. It sounds so beautiful.”

“Would you learn it?” Legolas asked.

“There would not be enough time,” Lucy said sadly. “We from Narnia will return to our land once this given quest has been completed, and I do not know if we will return.”

“Why would you not?” Legolas inquired, as he went through the different stalls to check on the upkeep.

“Because Narnia is so far away,” Lucy said. “And different, and, safer, I shall admit.”

Legolas who had come out of a stall, paused and gazed at her in a wonder. A safer land? Middle Earth has not been safe for as long as he could remember.

“Your land has many rulers,” he finally spoke. “And you are good friends. It is a strange thing to behold. I am sorrowed that these lands are not safe, and would very much like to see these happy lands of Narnia.”

Lucy smiled in fond memory. She was reminded of a similar mind. Caspian also had longed to escape from Narnia to see the Other World. She glanced around. Rivendell was taking good care of their steeds, and there was nothing of her to do for Hywh.

“Aye,” she said. “They are indeed a happy land. Say, Master Elf, have you completed your inspection. I am done here.”

“Ay,” Legolas nodded. “Shall we see how goes the practice?”

“We shall,” Lucy agreed. “Hopefully, my dear friends and kin shall have not disgraced themselves in front of their new comrades.”

Legolas chuckled as he and Lucy bade farewell to the horses and began their return to the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, not my best chapter. This one really does not do well. So much for trying to add a chapter before the adventure starts. I apologize.


	11. Swords, Kings and the Laws Thereof

“I do not understand this style of swordplay!” Eustace fumed.

“Mayhaps you have settled into the Narnian style, good lord,” Aragorn said with infinite patience.

“Yes, that must be it,” Eustace nodded. He glanced around at the rest of those learning this new form. Peter had already starting reforming his style, focusing on the forms Boromir had shown to him, being the King he was. Peter had always been a natural at swordplay. Edmund was practicing with Boromir, while Caspian and Rilian were studying the two has they dueled. The Hobbits who had joined in the practice had bowed out to watch the Men, offering comments and ideas as they did so. Susan and Jill had disappeared at some point, growing tired of watching the sword fly.

“We have time,” Aragorn stated to lift Eustace's spirits. He raised his sword again. “Tell me, is your King Peter naturally gifted in the craft of war, or is that you are not apt in this area?”

“Oh, Cuz – sorry, Peter is my cousin – is just a natural at swordplay,” Eustace informed the exile. “And I haven't had as much as experience or practice as he has.”

“Tell me, how is that there can be four kings and queens? I admit, I am curious of this,” Aragorn inquired. They had started swinging their swords once more, but slowly in order to Eustace to calculate and reorganize his style to fit that of Middle-Earth.

“Oh, my cousins are a special case,” Eustace said. “There was prophecy in Narnia, long ago, that there would two Sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve – basically, a family of four from the line of Man – that would come and rescue Narnia and sit upon the four thrones as Cair Paraval – Narnia's capital. And they, my cousins arrived, did just that.”

“But how?” Aragorn pressed, even as he locked sword with Eustace and began a struggle of power with him. “How is it possible?”

“They divided the realms of responsibility,” Eustace answered. “Peter is the High King, so he makes the final decisions, and can overrule his siblings, or any other ruler after him, such as Caspian or Rilian. He is the first to battle, and last to retreat. Edmund, as his title suggests, is our judge. He is excellent at discerning the true character of people. He is the one who makes treaties and discerns matter of the law. Susan is our peacemaker, but also she calms Peter from making any rash decisions, she usually deals with the internal matters. Lucy is the beloved one. Everyone loves her. She -”

He blinked. And then blinked again, astonished.

“You know,” he said. “I don't actually know what Lucy's role is. She doesn't do much in ways of ruling. She mostly makes appearances. So, I guess she is the figurehead.”

Aragorn smiled.

“And what of yourself and the Lady Jill?”

“Oh, Jill and I are the personal ambassadors of the Four,” Eustace said. “The fore-runners, if you may.”

The two had paused in their duel as they conversed. Now, however, Aragorn gave an understanding nod of his head, and then raised his sword once more. Eustace raised his own and renewed the duel.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Edmund and Boromir had reached a respite and the son of the Steward of Gondor approached Peter.

“High King of Narnia, may I have a word?” Boromir inquired. Peter paused and lowered his sword.

“Of course, Boromir,” he said. “How can I assist you?”

“How is that you can suffer your stewards to remain while you still hold the reins of your kingdom?” Boromir inquired. “I must confess this confuses me greatly. As you have heard, Gondor has held a long line of Stewards, for their king has not appeared to take the throne.”

Peter raised a brow, before turning to beckon Edmund to draw near, as well as Caspian and Rilian.

“Draw near, brother, Caspian and Rilian,” he said. “So that this man of Gondor may understand what it means to rule a great land.”

“My father is a noble man,” Boromir said as they all came to stand with the King King and the son of the Steward of Gondor. “But he has long claimed that the throne of Gondor belongs to the stewards. I do not believe he has learned that Isildor's Heir lives, for he would have told me. I fear that he may not give up the throne of Gondor to its rightful ruler.”

“Ay, if I remember correctly, you told Aragorn in the meeting that 'Gondor has not king, that it needs no king',” Edmund recalled. Boromir nodded, glancing to where Aragorn taught Eustace.

“Yes, tis true,” he said. “And I will not take those words back now – as I stand, I will still proclaim that Gondor has no need of a king.”

The four men from Narnia frowned at those words.

“But surely you can see that those words are false, even to your own heart,” Edmund spoke up. “In Narnia, there is a saying that a Son of Adam must sit upon the throne, meaning that Man must rule. Gondor needs its king.”

“We shall not have a king who does not desire the throne,” Boromir argued. “At this moment, Aragorn still runs from his fate. Until he picks up the heritage of his fathers with honor, then the role of Steward will remain.”

The Four Narnians nodded in understanding.

“So, how,” Boromir said. “How, High King, can you call your own steward a king, when you could easily lead your people?”

“It was not easy,” Peter answered. He shared a look with Caspian, as the two remembered the hostility that had run between them when they had first met. “But Narnia needed a Son of Adam on the throne, it needed a king, and I could not stay, nor could any of my siblings. Caspian was there, had fought for Narnia against his own people, had picked up the role of leader, and so it was his, and that of his lineage, reward that he would rule in our stead. When, at last I returned, there was no need to remove him from his office.”

Boromir was still confused, the Narnians could tell.

“Please, ask no more of this,” Edmund said. “We are strangers and in a strange land, and though we have come to aide Middle-Earth in this dire hour, do not ask anymore of this. It would be better if you knew as little of Narnia as possible, so that if we should return and come no more to this land, there would be little strife.”

“You plan not to open your borders?” Boromir questioned.

“It is most unlikely that would,” Peter said. “Narnia is very different, and at the moment, there is a measure of stable peace in our lands. I fear for its safety if we should open borders.”

“You do not trust us,” Boromir bit out.

“I am grieved you think so little of us,” Edmund sighed. “I hope you do not think such for long. It is much easier to travel with companions when one knows trust.”

“Come,” Rilian said. He had caught sight of Legolas and Lucy returning, and that another elf – Lindir, was it? - was coming towards them.

“Shall we converse of this some of time?” he continued. “The Elf Prince of Mirkwood and our good Queen Lucy are returning, and me thinks the noon day meal draws near, if the approach of this Elf means anything.”

“Ah, thank you, Rilian,” Caspian nodded. Then he turned to Peter and bent his head in his direction, and then at Edmund, before the same to Boromir. “If you may, my son and I will take our leave.”

Peter nodded and Boromir both nodded in dismissal, Boromir forgetting for a moment that Caspian was not of Gondor. He flinched for a moment until he noticed that none of the Narnians had taken offense.

They were very lax, these Narnians. Such a breach would not have been tolerated in Gondor's court.

“Eustace!” Edmund called. “Aragorn, we are done here.”

Aragorn and Eustace looked up from their practice duel, and then Aragorn noticed Lindir.

“Ah, Lindir, _what brings you here?_ ” He inquired, slipping into the Elvish tongue.

“ _My Lord Elrond calls for the noon meal, Estel,_ ” Lindir responded. “ _Afterwards, he desires the presence of the Fellowship in order to discuss matters concerning them._ ”

“At once,” Aragorn said, this time in the tongue of Man. The Narnians looked at him quizzically.

“It is time for the noon meal,” Aragorn reported. “And then Lord Elrond requests our presence to discuss matters.”

“Right,” Peter nodded. “Then, come on, Ed, Eustace, Boromir.”

“Come, Hobbits,” Aragorn said, but it was barely needed, for already Merry and Pippin were half-way down the path. Frodo and Sam were much slower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we are getting somewhere. Hopefully - guys, I am using that word a lot, wow - there will one more chapter of Rivendell before the journey begins, and then I will have a plot to follow, and it will be so much easier. I apologize for Boromir's attitude. There will have to be a confrontation. Probably next chapter. I do not want to humilate Boromir, and hopefully will find a way to sort this out without breaking anyone's character.  
> Updates will be slower now, sorry. I am just finishing up with the chapters I had ready.


	12. When All is Said and Done

The Fellowship of the Ring met with Elrond in his study. Some sitting, while others stood. Susan, Lucy, Jill and Rilian, along with the Hobbits sat around the table, facing Elrond. The others stood behind and around the table.

"I have called you together because I fear this Fellowship will break before the Ring has been destroyed," Elrond said gravely. The Narnians blinked at this. When? What was this?

"How is this possible?" Jill said. "I thought we were getting along alright."

But Peter shook his head.

"Not as well as we should," he said. "We are not unified, and there are grievousness held against each other. We must overcome these to present a unified front against this Sauron, and in order to complete the Quest to Destroy the Ring."

"So, how can we fix this?" Susan inquired.

"First of all, decide on what we are actually going to do," Peter said. "And that is, who is actually going to go."

"But we are all going, right?" Lucy cried.

"That should not be the case, dear lady," Aragorn shook his head. "It is strange here in Middle Earth for a daughter of Man to journey throughout the lands. The Elves have no qualms, unless the lady is of high birth, then she should be escorted. The Dwarves have no fear for their women, as it is said that they appear as men to the eyes of others. The Hobbits do not travel outside of the Shire almost at all. But it is clear that you Narnians have no fear for your women."

The women in the room blinked, before Susan peeled out in laughter.

"Of course there is fear for us, Lord Aragorn," she said. "Our kin and our friends are at their wits end with us."

"However, it is no fault of Susan's," Lucy spoke up. "If this was in Narnia, she would remain behind, and care for those within our lands. It is only because we were sent here that she joins in with this journey afar."

"Then perhaps the good queen may stay here within the safety of Rivendell," Boromir spoke up. Susan shook her head vehemently.

"Do not mistake me, Lord Boromir," she said. "I have called by Aslan himself, and therefore, I am sent with good cause. I will travel with my kin and friends until the quest is complete. I will not remain behind when I am called. Never again shall I forget who I am. I am Queen Susan of Narnia, called the Gentle, by Aslan himself, of the Radiant Southern Sun, and shall not falter."

"Good for you, Su," whispered Lucy, laying a hand on her sister's shoulder. She turned to a stunned Boromir, and smiled in understanding.

"You see, Lord Boromir," Lucy said. "We, the Four Kings and Queens of Narnia, stay together. Susan, Jill and I have been on many adventures, and are not afraid. Assuredly, we have been on many adventures, and have participated in battles. You do not have to fear for us as liabilities."

"That is good to hear," Boromir said softly. "I am grieved that you have to taste blood, for it is not for good and great queens as yourselves, nor should it be for good ladies. But I am glad that you have learned safety, and I pray you will be asset to our quest. However, it is not within me to not fear for you."

"Then you will have the approval of any knight of Narnia," said Lucy. "And you have the approval of my brothers."

"Because we all know everyone needs to keep on Lucy," Edmund pointed out. "She gets into the most trouble."

"So, has this been cleared?" Peter inquired, leaning forward. "There is a certainty, and a peace about the women coming with us?"

"Certainty, yes," Gandalf said. "Though about the peace, that is still unsure. I have lived long, and if you, their brothers and friends, have had no qualms with them as of yet, I will not say nay. It is you who is offering aide to our quest, who are we to decline?"

"There is no qualms with me," Legolas said. "The Markswoman shall be needed, archers are always welcome, and if the Lady Jill is of the Bow as her title declares, than we shall have not just one, but two more archers. But I am curious, what does the younger of the sister-queens of Narnia have to offer besides her gracious presence within the company?"

"I am a healer," Lucy responded. "I carry with me a cordial that may cure any aliment even known, or unknown. At least, that is how it works within Narnia."

"Ay, Legolas," Aragorn said. "She has already cured Frodo from a wound caused by a Morgal blade."

Legolas' eyes widened at that comment, and then smiled.

"Yes," he said. "It is good to have you with us, Queen Lucy of Narnia."

"Right then," Sam said. "The misses are goin' with us. But I don't think this is all."

"No, really!" Pippin cried. "There's more?"

"We must plot our course," said Gandalf. The others nodded, and settled in for a long conversation. The Narnians studied carefully the maps that were brought out. They did not come out of the study until late in the evening, when everything had been set in order.

The Fellowship would continue meeting within Elrond's study many times since then, and would continue with the teaching of new skills, and preparation for the journey. And soon, they were ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, this chapter was not put into the story originally. But here it is, and now, we can finally get on with the rest of the story!


	13. Setting Out

"The Ringbearer is setting out on a quest to Mount Doom. You who go out with him, no oath or bond is laid to go no further than you wish."

Elrond's voice came low and ominous over the gathered people who had come to see the Fellowship of the Ring off on their journey. Lucy and Jill glanced at each other, and Jill bit the inside of her mouth to keep a straight face. This was serious after all. They were finally going out, starting their journey. But did everything have to be so doom and gloom? Eustace seemed to have sensed her thoughts. After having so much time together, they knew each other pretty well, and he nudged her. _Stop it_ , he was telling her. _This is serious. This world could end up under the tyanny of this Sauron if we don't take this seriously._ That is what his face conveyed to her. At that realization, Jill stopped and quieted. Oh, yes.. this was Middle Earth. Not Narnia.

"Fare well, may you hold to your purpose," Elrond continued, letting his eyes go from each person within the Fellowship. With a start, Jill realized there was a glittering in his eyes. The good Lord Elrond did not know if any of the Fellowship was coming back. This is the Last Battle for Middle Earth, Jill's heart fell at that. They had come while there was still possible years and years left, but had come at a time of desperate need.

Of course. This is what Aslan did. He sent his best when things were at their worst. And now, Middle Earth needed the aide of Narnia's best.

"May the blessings of Elves, and of Men, and of Free Folk go with you," and with a saddened smile, Lord Elrond waved his hand in an act of farewell.

"For Aslan," whispered the Narnians. The Fellowship all glanced at them, but they had grown used to the name being constantly on the tongue of the Narnians, and did not say anything to disrupt the final good-bye.

Peter cast a gaze around the solemn assemble. There was grief in the air. All other farewells had been said before now, but this company was leaving on one last chance. He wanted to give these people hope, but there was nothing on his tongue.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer," Gandalf spoke up. Lucy realized that Frodo was still looking at the others who were staying behind. At his call, Frodo turned slowly, almost as if he was forcing himself to look away from Rivendell. To leave behind what had been so good for him, and continue on. He gazed at each of them, and each of the Narnians gave him a nod. He passed through the arch, and his shoulder passed below Gandalf's outstretched hand, a silent blessing. Then, one by one, the Fellowship left the courtyard of Rivendell and back out in the wilderness.

No one dared say anything when they heard Frodo inquiry softly to Gandalf,

"Mordor, Gandalf, is it left or right?"

And they were even quieter still when Gandalf answered him.

"Left."

And so they Rivendell, with Frodo and Gandalf in the lead, with the Narnians, all walking according to rank, behind them, with Glimi and Boromir following after with Merry and Pippin. Legolas walked just ahead of Sam, who was leading the pack pony, Bill, while Aragorn took the end.

"I can't believe we missed Christmas," Lucy murmured as they turned south.

"Oh, Lucy," her siblings shook their head at that soft mumble.

"Only you, dearest sister," Edmund sighed.

"Only Lucy, indeed," Peter grinned.

The Fellowship would turn to the left, turn, towards Hollin. From what Gandalf said, Hollin was not a city, but a place meant for rest and quiet on a traveler's journey. So, they were starting out nice and easy, before the quest was turned on its head. Indeed, they were taking it slowly. By lunch, though, the Hobbits were giving cry.

"We're not takin' 'nother step until third breakfast has been eaten," Pippin declared. The Narnians blinked at him, then at the other Middle Earth.

"Third breakfast?" Jill squawked. "But there was only one breakfast, at Rivendell."

"Yes," Pippin said. "But we missed second breakfast, and so that means third breakfast cannot be skipped. It's all a matter of logic."

"Logic?" Eustace blinked, exchanging another glance with Jill.

"Oh, what do they teach children these days?" Susan quipped mournfully, causing all the Narnians to burst out laughing. Pippin blinked and then looked at Merry.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked finally, trying to decide if he wanted to offended or if he wanted to know what was so funny to Narnians. Lucy stopped and shook her head.

"No, Pippin, we are not laughing at you," she said. "It's just, back home, we have a dear old teacher who just walks around saying what Susan just said whenever someone does something ridiculous. It has to do with logic, and when you brought it up, Susan just could not resist, you see. But we are not laughing at you, Pip, never. It's just an inside joke."

"Oh," Pippin said sagely. "Okay. So, third breakfast? Come on, Frodo! You know you need it just as much as the rest of us!"

"Just come on, Pippin," Merry grouched, plucking at the Took's sleeve. "Can't you tell that Gandalf wants to keep moving. It's still a long way to Hollin."

"Indeed, it is Master Hobbits," Aragorn called from ahead. "Come on now - you too, you from Narnia, keep up."

"Did he just -?" Susan blinked. Peter nodded.

"Let's go," he said. "We're on foot, and it's still the middle of winter."

"Oh, joy," Eustace grumbled.

Another hour of walking, and the leaders, who turned out to be Gandalf, Aragorn, and Peter kept everyone walking. Jill sighed, and then started whistling a Narnian song. Rilian perked up, recognizing it, and joined her. Soon, the whistling had died out, replaced by the full Narnian company singing their walking song.

"I don't care what the Marshwiggle says," Jill gave a laugh at the last lyrics. "It's fine weather today,"

"But, it certainly does look like rain, don't you say?" Eustace cracked up.

"Or, snow, by the looks of things," snickered Rilian.

"But I don't care!" Lucy chimed in. "It's wonderful weather out today - so,"

"Let's take a walk through the forest, through the forest, where the dryads dance," and the four voices died down as they realized that everyone had stopped walking and were staring at them. Caspian was holding back a laugh, while Edmund had his head in his palm, mortified. Susan was blinking at them, and Peter seemed close to exploding into a lecture. And the natives of Middle Earth just stood there, with confusion wrought all over their faces.

"What?" Susan took a breath. "Was _that_?"

"Oh, that?" Jill questioned. "That was just a walking song Eustace and I made up after we arrived in Aslan's country. At first, it was to tease Puddleglum, but then Rilian learned it, and then Lucy heard and just _had_ to learn it... so.... um, yeah."

"Miss. Lucy, what's a Marshwiggle?" Pippin questioned. Lucy gave a laugh.

"Just one of the many kinds of people who live in Narnia," she said. "They live in our marshlands, and are quite pessimistic. They are dear, dour things, that are very tall and gangly, like a reed at the river bank."

"Oh," Pippin said.

"Well, since we seemed to have been halted anyway," Peter said. "Perhaps here is the best time take our midday."

"Very well," Gandalf conceded.

As those who wished to care for the food helped Sam out with the meal, the rest took the time to help hone their skills. Boromir took the Hobbits - or, rather, he took Merry and Pippin, because Sam was cooking, and Frodo sitting beside Gandalf, talking quietly. Aragorn practiced with Edmund and Eustace, while Caspian faced against Peter. Rilian joined Legolas as they set up the watch. Glimi took out a pipe, and laid down against a rock, watching the Men and the Hobbits as they crossed swords.

"Ah!" Glimi cheered as he observed Peter began to overpower Caspian. "Get 'em lad! There it is! Oh, up lad, come on, show us what you've got!"

"Careful, Dwarve," said a sudden voice from behind, and Glimi jumped. Only to find Rilian behind him.

"Ai, what's that, laddie?"

"His Majesty, the High King, is one of the greatest swordmasters within Narnia," he said. "Father, also, was taught only the best."

Rilian turned for a moment.

"Come on, Father!" he gave cry. "Give it to him!"

"You're next, you young scamp!" Peter growled his way, as he shoved away from Caspian, before darting in for another offensive.

"Oh, don't say that," Edmund called from where he was practicing with Aragorn. "You sound older than you really are!"

"What do you mean, Ed?" Peter replied, swinging his sword after Caspian. "I am acting my age!"

"Narnian Age, or your real age, or whatever age you are in this world?" Eustace cut into the conversation as he jumped back from Aragorn's blade.

"Eustace!" came the cry from almost all the Narnians.

"All three!" Peter answered as he caught Caspian in a hold. "Yield?"

"I yield," Caspian nodded, and they broke apart.

"What do you mean?" Aragorn questioned. "Your age?"

"Let's just say things are wacky considering the High King and his family, and the Lady Jill," Rilian said.

"Oh, how so?"

"Eustace! What have you done now?!" screeched Jill from her side of the camp. "Now we have tell them everything!"

"Oh, bother it all," Eustace seethed. "Peter?"

"Nope," the High King replied cheerfully. "You dug the hole."

"You traitors, all of you," Eustace declared.

"Eustace!" Lucy gasped, and the natives from Middle Earth heard actual hurt from the queen. Eustace's eyes widened, and his eyes darted towards Edmund.

"Um, not you, Ed?"

Edmund just sighed, and shook his head.

"Supper's ready!" came Sam's call.

"Oh, finally!" Pippin cried, sheathing his sword and darting towards the food. "Food! Come on, Merry, or you'll be late!"

"Pippin, get back here!" Merry cried as he raced after his friend.

"Let's just drop it," Eustace sighed. "Grub's here."

The others nodded, and the natives of this world just left whatever they heard to the side. Narnians were weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's done. And I never want to see that chapter again. It's so bad. I just want to start following the scenes from the movie, but whenever I try, this happens. I might just end up skipping to where they were in the movie. Yep, that's what I am going to do. Skipping to Caradhras. Sorry. Not sorry.


	14. Caradhras

Susan looked up at the mountain, shading her eyes as she did so. With only a little respite at Hollin, the Fellowship had been walking for a while. And now, the only had to walk past the Misty Mountain range. She shivered as she gazed at it. There was a lot of snow on the peaks. The plan was to take the passage to the south, and avoid any undue problems. Snow would be problematic. She glanced, focusing on the present. The crackling of the fire, the sizzling and smell of sausages and some kind of bird Legolas had shot down. Jill had shot down a rabbit a little bit later, so they would having that as well for supper. The clanging of blades crossing rang throughout the area. Boromir was facing off against Merry and Pippin, while Aragorn was keeping watch of their footwork. The steady repetition of 'one, two, three,' joined in the activity of the Fellowship's campsite.

They had already been in Middle Earth for a month.

On the other side of the camp, Peter faced off against all four of his kin and friends. He was losing, but the tide could turn. Legolas and Jill were on watch patrol, Lucy was aiding Sam with the cooking. Gandalf was talking with Glimi, who was complaining, and Frodo was resting. He was resting a lot. Susan frowned. That was the ring's doing.

The sausages and the bird were done. Susan saw Sam make a plate and carry it over to Frodo, who accepted it with an appreciative smile, before turning his attention to the match between Man and Hobbits.

"- we were taking the long way 'round," Glimi's voice drifted over with the wind. "Gandalf, we could pass through the mines of the Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome."

"No, Glimi," came Gandalf's steady answer. It rang with warning. "I would not go through the path through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Susan's perked up at this, even as she turned on the stone. Gandalf sat just below her, with Glimi pacing on the grass beside the huge stone.

"Why is that, _Mithrandir_?" Susan asked. She had picked up calling Gandalf after his Elvish name, instead of the way of Men. Gandalf glanced up at her, took out his pipe, and shook his head. Susan frowned at this. What was he keeping from the company?

Legolas leaped past them, jumping lightly from rock to rock. Susan glanced up at him. He had not moved from his sentry point for the past half-hour. What had changed? Then he stopped, and peered into the distance. Gandalf, seeing this, paused and did the same. Susan followed suit, wondering what Legolas had spotted.

Just beyond her, she heard Pippin choke out a cry. But now, she was focused, trying to see what Legolas was seeing.

"What is that?" Sam's voice questioned past her focus.

"Nothing, it's just a wisp of cloud," Glimi grumbled.

"Really?" Jill inquired. "I doubt that, Master Dwarf. Look at Su and Legolas. The Elf has seen something. Eustace? Edmund, Peter? Come look at this. What say you?"

Everyone was gathering, wary now.

"It's moving fast, against the wind," Boromir commented. Edmund covered his eyes with his hand.

"Ay, Boromir is right," he said.

"This isn't good," Peter murmured. "Su, what is it?"

Suddenly, Legolas spun around.

"Crebain, from Dunland!" he cried. The Narnians saw Boromir and Aragorn go white.

"Hide!" Aragorn ordered, and the company moved as Boromir shouted something just behind Aragorn. The Narnians' eyes widened. Birds? Great. But they joined in, grabbing their things, and ducking into the nearest cranny.

Susan found herself pressed against Lucy, and heard her sister whispering prayers to Aslan. Susan joined her. Then, for a moment, everything fell silent, and Lucy took deep breathe. Susan forgot to breath.

And then the air was filled with the cries and crows of the birds that crowded the area. The swarm circled one, and then continued on. Susan counted to five, and then slowly raised herself out of the craig, before turning to help Lucy out.

"What was that?" Edmund breathed out, raising himself up from where he had been hiding. A bush of some sort.

"Crebain," Aragorn whispered, just repeating the word Legolas had cried. Susan found that very informative.

"Spies of Saruman," Gandalf delivered a little better explanation. "The passage to the south is lost to us. We must take the path of Caradhras."

And for some reason, Susan's heart dropped as she heard those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I do her justice?


	15. On Hobbits and Narnians

Meriadoc Brandybuck, otherwise known simply as Merry by his companions, was unsure of what to think of those from the land of Narnia. They were strange. Of course, everything was strange outside of the Shire. But the Narnians were not of Middle Earth at all, but of a land beyond what the maps depicted. So he did what Hobbits, Brandybucks especially, he observed.

The Queen Lucy Pevensie was fun and cheerful - she would love the Shire, she belonged in the Shire. She was more of a Hobbit maiden than of a daughter of Man. The good Queen was unlike any queen Merry heard about. She would lower herself, and was constantly looking for the best. She would laugh, and laugh until she cried, or ooh and aw over something. She stuck close to the Hobbits, making conversation with Pippin and getting involved his scraps, cooking with Sam, talking with Merry. The only time she seemed to settle was around Frodo. She would just sit with Cousin Frodo and softly sing, or point or ask questions.

"What did you and Miss Lucy talk about, Mister Frodo?" Merry overheard Sam ask Frodo while Lucy was off hunting berries with Pippin.

"Yes, Frodo," Merry hopped over to the pair. "Please tell."

"Oh, nothing exciting," Frodo answered. His smile was hesitate, but pure. "Just little things. She asked questions about the Elves, about the Shire, and about Hobbits. She is just curious. Middle Earth is new to her, and she wants to experience it in full, I think."

"What do you think of the Narnians, Sam?" Merry asked.

"They are a strange folk," Sam replied. "Queen Lucy is more Hobbit than Man. Yes, she is, Mister Frodo, there's no use in denying it. But she is a woman, oh, I don't know. Why would take up this quest in aide in the first place? It makes no sense to me, that's for sure."

"And of the others?" Merry inquired.

"Lucy is the only one who regularly interacts with me," Frodo said. "The Lady Jill also will make attempts to talk, but she has a quick tongue. Her Highness often has to send her away. The Lord Eustace visits, but he prefers the company of Boromir, Aragorn, or of the other Narnians. To tell you the truth, I don't think he likes Glimi that much."

"Why do you think that is?" Merry asked. This bit of information was new. Why would Lord - Call me Eustace, just Eustace - dislike Glimi.

"I don't think he trusts Dwarves," Frodo said with a sigh. "Jill also, though she tries, avoids interaction with Glimi. I don't think our Master Dwarve has noticed yet."

"Ay, Master Glimi is too distracted by his rivalry with Legolas to notice the Narnians' mistrust," Sam put in. Frodo shook his head.

"No, Sam," he said often. "Not all of the Narnians dislike Glimi. Lucy certainly enjoys him, and Edmund is content around him. He actually interacts with Glimi quite a lot."

"It's because he feels the need to mediate between Legolas and Glimi," Merry said. He had seen it several times, where King Edmund stepped in between the Elf and the Dwarf and talked down any hostilities between them. Frodo shook his head once more, and then looked around. Sam and Merry followed his example. Jill, Legolas, and Susan were caring for their bows, conversing on the depths of archery with each other. Merry blinked when he saw the King Edmund speaking with Glimi, and at the spark in both of their eyes as they spoke of the skill of Dwarves. Peter was with Aragorn and Gandalf, probably deciding on the best route for the Fellowship to take. Caspian and Rilian were on sentry duty, while Eustace practiced his skill of the sword with Boromir. Lucy and Pippin were still gone.

"See there," Frodo said, pointing out Edmund and Glimi. "Don't you remember? There are Dwarves in the land of Narnia as well. They said so while we were still in Rivendell."

"Alrighty then," Merry nodded. "But what of the others? You have only spoken on Lucy, Jill, Eustace, and Edmund. To tell you the truth, their High King scares me."

"What? How?" Sam asked.

"He's so serious and grave," Merry said. "He is so focused."

"But he cares," Frodo interjected. "Have you seen him when the Narnians are together? I want to know those songs they sing."

"Yes," Merry nodded. Sam did as well, and then there was Pippin and Lucy running up, crying that they had finished their hunt.

"I had best start on supper," Sam said and left. Merry stayed with Frodo.

Yes, he thought. Those Narnians were certainly strange.

"What do you think of the Narnians, Merry?" Frodo asked.

"Huh? Oh," Merry said. "I think we have been traveling with them long enough for me to know they will do anything to make sure the quest is a success. This Caspian and his son are different. They are almost like the men of Bree, but less foul. But, I don't think that Rilian likes Gandalf very much."

"No," Frodo shook his head sadly. "He doesn't. Neither does Edmund. I don't think they like magic very much."

"I wish Gandalf would make some fireworks," Merry said. "Then they would see that Gandalf is not an evil wizard."

Frodo gave a wry smile, amusement flickering across his face.

"Yes," he said fondly. "Gandalf's fireworks are best, aren't they?"


	16. Upon Caradhras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
>  Edmund and Rilian suffer a little PSTD, especially Edmund. Please be aware of this.  
>  Again, WARNING FOR PSTD.

"Ugh!" Susan gave a shudder and pulled her cloak closer to her body. "Why must there be snow?"

"It's not so bad," Jill said brightly. "It could be a marsh."

"True," Susan conceded with a sigh. She kept pushing through the snow, then glared at the distant figure of Legolas. The Elf was walking stately ahead of the company, covering his eyes and testing the snow beneath him. Jill followed her gaze and then furrowed her brow. He scowled at Legolas' back, and then halted and bent down. Susan paused as well.

"What are you doing?" she asked, watching as Jill began molding the snow underneath her fingers. Jill looked up and gave an impish smile. Then she stood and showed Susan a ball she had made from the snow. Susan blinked at it.

"Oh no," she said. "Do not do this, Jill. Legolas is a proud Elf prince, and will not take kindly to to this. Not at all."

"Sometimes a little humility does good," quipped the younger woman, and then, as Susan rushed to stop her, threw back her arm and launched the snowball right at Legolas. The target was the back of his head. Jill was not named 'of the Bow' for naught.

There was the sound of snow hitting flesh, and a surprised inhale from the Elf. Gandalf and Peter, hearing the noise, turned back to find Legolas turning slowly back toward the rest of the company. Peter's eyes flashed to the two women, and immediately saw the smug look of satisfaction on Jill's face, while Susan looked on in mortification. His sister was still grasping one of Jill's wrists.

Legolas stared at Jill, before reaching up and entangling a large clump of snow that had stuck to his hair. He held out it in front of him. Dark eyes flickered, taking in the snow, and the expression of victory of the young woman's face.

"Your highness," began Susan. Her formal tone was back. "Please, I beg of you, forgive my dear friend's insolence towards your person - she meant no ill towards you."

"No, she did not," Legolas replied. "However, an attack on my person, however menial or innocent, cannot be overlooked. Prepare yourself, Jill of the Bow, you have met your match."

"Hey, what's this?" Caspian said as he and his reached the position. They had seen the front stop, and were wondering at the cause of delay. Then the Telemarine King saw the snow still confined in the Elf's hair, and of Jill, and understood.

"Oh, Jill," Rilian groaned. "You didn't."

"I did," Jill said, before turning to the Elf. "And what are you proposing your retribution shall be, Master Elf?"

Legolas gave a smirk that boded nothing good.

"I say, I must insist on stopping this at once," Gandalf began. Peter stopped with a shake of his weary shake of his head.

"Let the archers have their fun," he said. "I speak for my own when I say this is needed. In Narnia, snow must be enjoyed at once, for fear of misery setting in. Jill, Legolas, declare sides."

"Susan!" Jill, knowing these rules, called out. Legolas blinked, before waving the rest of the company forward.

"Aragorn!"

"What is it, Legolas?" Aragorn replied.

"A snow-fight," Legolas answered. "Come quick, I call for aide against these Narnian maidens. They have injurious aim."

"A snow-fight?" Pippin piped up. "Oh! Come on, Merry, come on, Frodo, let's play!"

"A snowball fight?" Lucy said. "Any sides?"

"Jill and Legolas, good sister," Susan said. "Spread word, it shall be Narnians against those of this land soon enough."

Within minutes, the Fellowship had become divided. Narnians against Middle Earth. Shrill laughter and screams echoed on the base of the mountain, as the representatives of the land chased each other in the chance of hitting someone with a snowball. Lucy giggled as she and Jill stood back to back.

"Legolas looks so serious," she whispered to her friend. Jill quickly glanced over to where the Elf had stationed himself. He held a sniper's position upon a large rock, deftly dodging balls of snow, and in return, throwing his own. Jill giggled at the Elf's face.

"Ah!" came a cry. "The Hobbits! Watch for the Hobbits! They are taking prisoners! 'Ware the Hobbits! Off!"

"Edmund! No!"

Came the mournful scream.

Gandalf sighed.

"Eru has sent us children," he grumbled.

When the play fight had finally come to the end, the lands of Middle Earth was safe from the invasion of Narnians. All because of the quartet of Hobbits. As everyone shook off snow, and replaced gloves, they had come together to laugh at what had happened.

"Has everyone returned to sanity?" questioned Gandalf. "Yes? Good. Let us continue."

"Oh, have a heart, Gandalf," Susan spoke up. "This was needed. Give us a few minutes to gather ourselves, and we shall be ready."

Gandalf, leaning on his staff. But he was outnumbered, and outvoted, and so he conceded with another heavy sigh.

"Frodo!"

The Narnians twisted around at Aragorn's cry. Lucy darted forward when she saw Aragorn rushing to Frodo's side. Frodo was rolling in the snow, detracting the progress the Fellowship had made, despite the snow-fight. The others were close behind her. Then Edmund stopped, and glanced at Caspian, who was staring at something Boromir was holding up on a silver chain. Gold glinted in the sunlight.

"Caspian?" Edmund questioned, and then noticed that Peter had also halted. "Peter? Hey! What's this?"

"What's going on?" Lucy asked. She watched as Boromir seemed spellbound. Then she realized that Peter and Caspian were as bound to what they saw before them as Boromir was.

"Caspian, Peter?"

"Boromir," came the whispered of Aragorn, a warning tight in his throat. Gandalf's gaze drifted from person to person, catching on those whose eyes were held by the ring's attention. _So, not even those sent to aide us are immune to the Ring's affects. This is troublesome indeed._

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt... over so small a thing. Such a little thing."

"Boromir," Lucy whimpered.

"Caspian, Peter!" Edmund gave a shout. "Wake up!"

"No, Boromir!" Eustace shouted as he saw Boromir reach to touch the ring, just as Aragorn gave cry.

"Boromir!" Aragorn's voice was sharp and authoritative. At once, Boromir snapped out of the spell of the Ring, as both Caspian and Peter came back to themselves. The Narnians shuddered, and the two men affected gave each other a shared look. One, Edmund noted, of horror and disgust.

Seeing that he had gained Boromir's attention, Aragorn continued.

"Give the Ring to Frodo," he said. Boromir came forward, and Rilian tensed when he saw that Aragorn's hand was still on the hilt of his sword. But Boromir only chuckled, and gave the chain back to Frodo, ruffling the Hobbit's hair as he did so. He ignored all the eyes upon him.

"As you wish," he said, as Frodo quickly grabbed the Ring back, slipped it over his head and stuffed the chain beneath his shirt.

"I care not," Boromir said lightly, turning back up the mountain. He ignored the suspicious looks he received from the others. Aragorn released the grip on his sword, and the Narnians relaxed.

"Pete, you okay?" Edmund inquired softly. Peter sighed and shook himself bodily. Caspian did the same.

"Father?" Rilian asked, looking back.

"That Ring," Peter said finally. "Holds great power. We must beware. Caspian, you and I must never step near it again. The spell will worsen. In fact, there are only few I will trust to the handling of Frodo. Lucy, Ed. I can trust you with this task?"

"Of course, Peter," said the youngest two Pevensies.

"Are you truly alright, Peter?" Susan asked, reaching out to touch Peter's arm. Peter looked into his sister's eyes and gave a weary smile.

"The Ring's power is potent, dear sister," he said. "But yes, I shall be fine. Aslan's breath is still strong. I will not break."

"Father?" Rilian asked. Susan's question on his lips directed towards Caspian.

"It is as with the High King, my son," he said. "But it shall pass, and I shall fight it. I did not fight the allure of the White Witch, and had to be rescued. This, on a foreign land, shall not be my downfall."

"That is good to hear," Rilian said, relief thick in his tone.

"Narnians, are you with us?" came Legolas' voice.

"Ay, we are," Peter answered. He turned and started back up the mountain. "Come along, my family, my friends, back to the adventure that Aslan has put us upon."

"Oh, blast all this snow!" Edmund growled as he pushed forward. His mood had plummeted at the appearance of the snowstorm. He shivered, and pressed forward. There was something there, something similar. Something like...

And then he was back into Narnia, looking up at the face of Jadis.

"Did you think you could escape me, little king?" she taunted, and Edmund gasped. _No, no, no, no, no. Not here, not now. This couldn't be happening!_

"Aslan!" he screamed, clutching at his head. The White Witch was dead. Jadis was dead, and gone. Many times over.

"-Mund! Ed"

Lucy. There was Lucy's voice. Edmund refocused on her voice. Yes. He could do this.

"Edmund!"

"Rilian!"

"What ails them?"

"It is the storm, there is magic in the air," came a hurried reply. "They are experiences flashes of the past. Edmund! Rilian!"

"I am here, I'm here, I'm back," Edmund gasped, grasping at the arms that held him tight. He could hear Rilian's voice too, coming back to himself as well. But Edmund could only feel relief, even with the sensation of magic thick in the air.

"Are they okay?" Pippin questioned, his voice wavering.

"Yes, they are," Lucy said soothingly. There was a hand carding through his hair. "It's just the snow, and the magic in the air."

"Magic?" came Gandalf's voice, gruff and sharp. Edmund blinked, and he could see. He could see, he was back. Back in Middle Earth and surrounded by the white of snow, and the shadows of familiar persons.

Legolas, at hearing the youngest queen's statement, peered into the storm, sensing. There! A voice!

"There is a fell voice in the air!" he cried, confirming the Narnians' suspicions.

There was a moment of restless silence - everyone straining to hear what Legolas seemed to hair. Then Gandalf cried out:

"It's Saruman!"

At the mention of the treacherous wizard - "what do you mean, treacherous? All magic is to avoided at any cost, it does no one any good!" "You understand it naught, young Eustace." - everyone tensed. Then, there was a low, ominous rumble as the wind howled all the louder.

"Get up! Get up! It's the mountain!"

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn shouted. "Gandalf! We must get turn back!"

"Turn back!" Susan screamed out. Everyone was trying to their hardest to be heard against the background of the wind roaring in their ears, and the snow pounding to the ground. "We cannot see, Aragorn! How can we turn back!"

At the same time Susan yelled at Aragorn, Gandalf turned against the wind and spread his arms. Edmund yelled, and Rilian cried out as magic pressed down around them. Edmund felt himself fading back into a memory, and curled against whoever was holding him. Their grip tightened, trying to ground him there.

"Gandalf! Stop! Please, you're hurting Edmund and Rilian!"

Lucy. Good ol' Lucy.

But then, there is a loud crack, and Edmund felt himself being weighed down. Blackness overtook him.

And then he was back.

"Ed! Edmund!"

"L-Lucy?" he stammered. He was cold. What was going on? There was snow everywhere.

"Oh, thank the Lion!" Lucy praised, hugging him tightly. "You had a flashback, and then Rilian had a flashback, and the wizard who turned traitor tried bringing down the mountain. Gandalf tried using magic to fight against him, but he was hurting you and Rilian, and so he stopped. We were buried for a bit, but everyone in okay. Now, we are just deciding if we should turn back."

With that, she helped him to his feet. The wind is loud in Edmund's ears, but it seemed as if they have found a cave to hide from the wrath of the storm. A crackling fire is near. Caspian sits with Rilian, holding him tightly. The natives of this land are silent and grim.

"We must get off the mountain," Boromir says as he stirs the fire. "Make for the Gape of Rohan and take the west road to my city."

Aragorn disagreed, shaking his head.

"The Gape of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," he protested. The Narnians shuddered. If this was the full brunt of Saruman's power from many distances away, how would coming closer to him be?

"If we cannot go over the mountain," suggests Glimi, "Then let us go under it. Let us go through the mines of Moria."

"I thought that we should not go through the mines of Moria unless it was the only choice left," grumbled Susan. She curled her cloak tighter around herself, miserable in the idea of all this snow.

"Let the Ringbearer decide," Gandalf said at last, sighing deeply. Frodo looked up, sharply, then looked around. He looked at Edmund and Rilian, and then at his fellow Hobbits. Merry and Pippin looked miserable, huddled against each other, seeking as much warmth as they can against the freezing conditions. Bill was huddled against the side of the cave, seeking out shelter. Boromir curled himself around the two, protecting them as much as he could.

"We cannot stay here," he said, looking at Frodo. "This will be the death of the Hobbits!"

"Now that was unfair," Jill snipped. "Leave him be, Boromir, there's no need to guilt trip into making a decision. Frodo, everything will be fine. Make your decision without fear."

Frodo gave her a tentative smile, filled with pain and worry.

"Thank you, Lady Jill," he said. "But we will go through the mines."

There was great sinking feeling, and the Narnians lowered their head. Then, like the final ringing of a death march bell, Gandalf's voice struck out into the starkness of the cave, and the muffled noise of the snow storm.

"So be it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Edmund, Rilian. This is just a headcanon for me.  
>  So, how did you guys like that moment of crack before the seriousness of Caradhras? Hope you enjoyed it, and no one was too traumatized by Edmund's flashback.  
>  Until next time!


	17. Before the Gate of Moria

No one asks advice from Legolas. This is because he is an Elf, and the general consensus on Elvish advice is that it is unhelpful. Legolas agrees. Elves are far above any other creature on Middle Earth. At least, that was what his father wished to instil into him. Legolas disagrees. Elves give unhelpful advice because they want to avoid conflict. They will council both for and against whatever they are prevailed upon to answer, giving neither their own opinion, nor that of any help. It is because of this trait that Legolas remained quiet when it was elected that they go up Caradhras to avoid Saruman's trap in the southern pass. It was why Legolas remained silent when it was decided that they would return down from the mountain and enter into mines of Moria.

But Aragorn was giving him questioning glances from ahead. Aragorn was looking back, his eyes alone expressing the Man's want to know what Legolas thought of this whole situation. Legolas understood. It was he who found Aragorn deep in the Wilderness. It was he who stayed with Aragorn when he learned that neither of them could bear the choice of returning back to the places they had grown up in. It was the Exiled Descendant of Elros who knew Legolas best, and it was the Mirkwood Prince who understood Aragorn best. And Legolas could see within those wondering eyes that Aragorn knew the trouble curdling in the heart of the Mirkwood Prince.

Aragorn knew.

Legolas was not in agreement with Frodo's choice to enter into the mines of Moria. Why? Simply put: he was an Elf - and he was entering to the lair of Dwarves. Not only that, but he knew - he had met - Glimi's cousin, Balin. If he remembered Balin, the wizened old Dwarve, who actually was quite tolerate for a Dwarve, then Balin would certainly remember him. The memory of Dwarves were legendary. It had to be, to survive deep within the bowels of Middle Earth. But remembering Balin, and Balin remembering him would be problematic. It would arouse the enmity between Elves and Dwarves once more, especially the enmity between that of the Dwarves and Mirkwood Elves, whose enmity had created a war almost a century ago. This would only prove a hindrance to the Fellowship, and even more detrimental to the Quest, which could not suffer any further injures.

But Legolas stayed silent, as he always did, allowing Aragorn, who needed to learn how to lead - never mind that he was the head of the Rangers in the Wild, and that he had led both the Men of Rohan, and the Men of Gondor, on separate occasions - and Gandalf, and in this case, the Narnian High King, to take the lead. He did not have to offer any assistance in this area. He only needed to do his part in representing the Firstborn, and not allow Dwarve-kind to better them.

"Eustace, Jill, are you up?"

Legolas turned his head slightly at the sound of a voice. It was the Narnian Prince, or King - Narnians were strange - Rilian. The son of the Telemarine King. Rilian was strange, stranger than any of the Narnians. When he first saw the Man, Legolas almost mistook him for an Elf. The sensation around that Man was different than the difference surrounding the Narnians. What was he doing up?

"Rilian?"

That was Jill of the Bow.

"Ay, we're up, why'r you?"

And there was Eustace. Had not the Narnians already retired? What were the youngest of these doing awake?

"I cannot sleep," Rilian admitted. They were talking softly, in whispers. Legolas could see shadows flickering as the three made their way to each other, nearing the dying light of the fire.

"The thought of entering the mines of this Moria?" Eustace asked. There was a pause, and then Jill spoke up.

"Me too," she said. So, Legolas mused. Rilian must have nodded.

"I really don't want to go back underneath the ground," she continued. "I have gotten better, but I am still claustrophobic."

Claustr-what? Legolas pondered at this strange word. Must be something with going beneath the earth, by the way of her words.

"Are you alright, Rilian?" Eustace inquired. "Cousin was hit pretty bad. I haven't seen him like that since before we arrived in the Country."

"It's the snow, Scrubb," Jill stated. Legolas wondered at this new term. It had been uttered by Jill a few times on the journey, but it was still rare.

"I know that," Eustace snipped back. "He's had flashbacks in England, you know. But that's without magic, and this was with magic, so I'm worried. Peter's going to be close by if anything happens tonight."

"And there will be, if he sleeps at all," Jill said. "Wait, _is_ he asleep?"

"He is," Eustace said. "But I guess you cannot sleep."

"No," Rilian shook his head. "I am surprised that King Edmund can sleep. He had the worst of it. But, hearing that we will be heading underneath the ground. I-I don't want to. Eustace, Jill, I don't want to head back there."

"You aren't," soothed Jill. Legolas was still now, listening carefully. Why would Rilian resist going beneath the ground? He knew it was not in Man's preferences to go into the bowels of Middle Earth, but it should not be terrible. These Narnians had not shown any fear as of yet, only curiosity to these new lands. Why was the snow - and now, it seems - the mere mention of heading beneath would affect them so troublesomely?

"Listen, Your Highness," Jill of the Bow continued. "You aren't going back there. You are here, in Middle Earth, not even in Narnia. So far away from Narnia. And she's dead, Rilian. The Lady of the Green Kirtle is dead. Remember? You remember how she died?"

"Yes," Rilian said, and then, answered in a clearer voice, his spirit returning to him. "Yes, thank you, Jill, I remember now. Yes, she took on the appearance of a great, green snake."

"Yes," Eustace said. "And then?"

"And then she wrapped herself about me," Rilian said. "She had killed my mother, and since you had freed me from her enchantment and I did not fall back beneath her charms and would not listen to her, she would kill me as well."

"Yes, and?" Eustace pressed. Legolas listened carefully. He had to yet to learn of any history of these Narnians, and to hear Rilian's tale, it was exciting indeed. He wondered if there were any songs of his adventure.

"And so," Rilian breathed. "I lopped off the monster's head. She's gone."

"Yes, the Lady of the Green Kirtle is gone," comforted Jill. "And we are in Middle Earth."

"So both are you are going to be okay," Eustace said. "It's an adventure - one that Aslan has issued. We are under his protection, and whatever happens it is by his will. And - oh! Legolas is up!"

Legolas, hearing that he had at last been recognized, turned, and approached.

Jill thought he cut an imposing figure, walking stately on top of the snow with barely leaving a trance, his bow and quiver at his back.

"That was quite a tale," Legolas spoke up. "I have not heard a story so full of courage. Take heart, young ones, I believe you shall find your way home still."

"You were listening!" Jill's voice was soft and shrill. Conscious enough to not wake the others, but strong enough to make her thoughts clear.

"Forgive me," replied the Elven prince. "I meant no harm, and Prince Rilian's history will not pass beyond my lips unless permission is granted. I would not dishonor him so. His story is full of hope. I also lost my mother when I was young."

"Oh?" Eustace questioned. Legolas exhaled softly. Why had he said that? He had no wish to share the details of his mother's passing. She did not even pass into the west, to Valinor, but she died.

"My mother, Queen of the Elves of what was still known as Greenswood," he said. "She taken by Orcs during a Orc raid upon our lands. My father and his party - I was had yet to travel beyond the safety of the our stronghold - pursued her captors to the threshold of Gundabad. There, they could go no further, though my father tried. But there, the Orcs kept some creature alike to a Fire Drake. My father was grievously injured when he returned. My mother did not return. I do not know the full truth of the matter, as King Thranduil has avowed silence on my mother's fate."

The Narnians were silent. Then Rilian spoke up.

"You are to be commended, Master Elf," said the Narnian Prince. "You have shown great courage with this sharing. It is safe with us."

"I thank you for your courtesy," Legolas replied. "Only Aragorn knows of this story, though _Mithrandr_ may know as well."

"Gandalf keeps his own counsel," Eustace grumbled.

"However," Legolas said. "We have been out here long, and it is time to rest. I am to wake your father and the Dwarve for sentry. Let us go back to the others."

No one asks Legolas what his opinion is on important matters. It is because he is an Elf, and Elves are strange and wondrous creatures that a far beyond the reaches of mortal men. Legolas disagrees. Elves only act like they are far above the other races of Middle Earth. In reality, they are much the same. It is why Legolas had left the boughs of Mirkwood forest, left the safety of his home. He found his Elvish roots to set into the ground, and he had to be removed. He finds the simplicity in just living, the adventure of the present, without fear of the future, and without the grasp of the past, to be exhilarating. Many would say that Legolas is more Secondborn and than of the First.

He feels at home with this company. At peace with the strangeness of the Narnians, the rivalry with the Master Dwarve, his friendship with Aragorn. The wisdom of Gandalf, and the joy of the Hobbits. He is not the head, he could just follow. He could be Legolas Greenleaf, without title. So, if no one asks Legolas what his thoughts are on the matter at hand, he fully accepts it.

That does not mean he will not tease Glimi to his death.

"Dwarve doors are invisible when closed," Glimi said as the company walked beside the great walls. The Narnians exchanged looks. More magic. But Legolas, thinking back to the frustration of the company of Dwarves, sighed, as Gandalf backed up the Dwarve.

"Yes, Glimi, even their own masters cannot find the entrance, if their secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he questioned. Gandalf and Aragorn both turned to give him a steely glare. Legolas remained impassive. The ladies of Narnia muffled their giggles.

"Another story, Master Elf?" Edmund questioned.

"For another time," Gandalf said pointedly.

"Carefully, Lu!"

The Fellowship turned to where Peter's voice rang out, and saw that he was holding Lucy from falling to the water. Caspian stared at the water, and then shivered.

"I do not like the look of this water," he murmured. Edmund and Lucy both nodded, even as Peter helped Lucy back to her feet.

"Too much like Goldwater," Edmund muttered.

"Oh, don't mention that cursed stream here, Edmund," Lucy stated. The Middle Earth natives stared at the good queen.

"What?" she questioned. "I am allowed to not like things. Goldwater is one of them. Just thinking about it - ugh!"

She gave a full-body shake.

"Alright," she said. "Let's stay away from the water, and stick with finding this door, shall we?"

"Of course," Gandalf replied. Then turned back, and continued their search.

"Now then," he mumbled, dragging his fingers against the cliffside. Powder fell from where his fingers touched, and he saw the faint glimmer of silver shinning from beneath the dirt. Foreign words, full of magic, began to form as he began to work on clearing the rest of the hidden frame. Behind him, there were gasps from the Narnians.

"It's beautiful," whispered Susan.

"Father, look," Rilian said. "It, it..."

"Ithidin," Gandalf interrupted. No need to get sentimental. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

"Starlight?" Rilian said. "Father?"

"I know, Rilian," Caspian said. Their half conversation was beginning to garner attention from the Middle Earth side of the company. Confusion was written on their faces.

"Gandalf," Caspian spoke up. "If it only mirrors moonlight, please allow my son to assist."

"He is no mage," Gandalf replied, mystified. "You Narnians have made it quite clear that you will have nothing to do with magic. There is a full moon tonight."

"I know," Caspian said. "But can you not see, this ithidin calls out to him. Starlight is in his blood."

At this, those of Middle Earth cast a eye on Rilian, and saw that Caspian was right. Rilian staring as if enchanted by the dull light of the beautiful decor of the door. He took a step forward, and the door's pulsed a silver hue.

"What is this?" Aragorn cried out.

"Do not fear," Caspian said. "It is just the heritage into which was my son born."

"Rilian's mother was a star," Edmund said. Everyone's eyes were upon Edmund now.

"It's true," said Lucy. "Well, she was the daughter of a star, actually. Ramundu had been tossed down from the sky, being banished from the heavens. Then, on one of our adventures, we came across Ramundu and his daughter."

"She was beautiful," Caspian said. And then, there was a flicker of silver light, and they all turned to see Rilian standing before the door, hand outstretched to touch the rock. The frame was blazing to life, while Rilian stared up in wonder.

"Well done, Rilian," Caspian said. "Now, please, come back."

Rilian stepped back, still staring at the door.

"What I would give to see her again," he said and then came back.

"I understand your pain, my son," Caspian said. "But now is not the time. Now, we need to open the door."

"The door will not open," Rilian answered, at the same time that Sam spoke up.

"What do you supposed that means, Mister Frodo?"

"What what means, Sam?" Frodo asked in return. Everyone turned to see that Sam had drawn attention to the lettering inside the door frame.

"Oh," Gandalf said. The Narnians exhaled at his sound of his tone. It was his I-know-better-than-you-so-listen-up voice. "It reads: "The doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"Well what you suppose that means?" Merry questioned, much to the amusement of the company. Hobbits were so precious. Gandalf shrugged.

"Oh, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the door will open."

With that, he turned grandly towards the door and began to speak. Edmund immediately recognized the language of the Elves and frowned. Then he glanced at his siblings, who shrugged, and began to sit down. This was going to be awhile. And so it was. The excitement the Hobbits first showed - Pippin especially - soon dwindled. After a while, the Fellowship was left to their own devices.

Now, no one asks advice from an Elf. And Legolas is an Elf. Therefore, it stands to reason that no one asked his opinion on this matter. Not that he would give it anyway. But, if anyone asked him what he thought of the whole business, he would have said it was a waste of time. However, the Fellowship was determined to go into the mines, and therefore, he would follow.

Bill, the poor pony who had followed them so faithfully, had to be let go. Aragorn was the one who suggested it, and it was Peter who reinforced the idea. It was Sam - good ol' Sam, whose heart had cared for the pony ever since their journey to Rivendell - who carefully slipped off all the packs. Lucy was close behind him, giving words of comfort, and whispering words of safety into the poor's ears.

"He will be alright, Sam," she said, just as Aragorn said just as softly.

"Don't worry, Sam, he knows the way home."

Sam just gave a weary sigh and returned to Frodo, who was still staring at the door frame. Lucy smiled up at Aragorn.

"Thank you, Aragorn," she said. "Even if no one else sees it, I can see it. You have a good heart, and will make a great king."

"I have no wish to be king," Aragorn reminded her. She gave him another smile, this one knowing and wise.

"You cannot deny what is in your blood, Aragorn," she said. "Anyway, Gondor needs its king. It needs a Man on its throne. You will see. Maybe not now, but someday, the truth of it."

And then there was a great splash. Aragorn twisted around, and hurried to the bank. There was Peter holding Pippin's hand.

"My thanks, High King," Aragorn said. "Do not disturb the water."

Pippin sighed, and laid down the rock. Merry, who was close by, did the same.

"Oh, it is useless," Gandalf said with a sigh, sitting down next to Frodo.

"Peter, what was that?" Lucy gave cry at the sight of a ripple in the water. All the Narnians jumped to their feet, while Caspian and Eustace both gave a groan.

"Please tell me that was just a rock shifting underneath the water," Eustace said. "Please tell me that Pippin and Merry are at fault, and that it is not some creature beneath the water."

At the same time, Frodo jumped to his feet.

"Gandalf! What's the Elvish word for friend?"

Gandalf looked up.

"Mellon," he said. With a crack, that caused the Narnians and Aragorn to jump back at the sudden sound.

"Finally!" cried Merry, and he darted forward.

"Wait!" Susan shouted. There was something wrong here. But those of Middle Earth were already entering into the cave. The Narnians looked back towards the water, and Peter gave a nod. The men drew their swords, while the ladies drew back their arrows. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and they did not know what.

"Narnians, are you coming?" came Gandalf's voice.

"Come along, now," Glimi's voice was next. "Come, my cousin is about to give us a royal welcome."

But something was wrong. And then, there was Boromir's cry from within the cave.

"This is no mine! It's a tomb!"

Then Susan saw it, the thick tentacle coming out of the water. Searching, it was searching. Something beneath the water's edge was hunting.

The Ring.

"Frodo!" she cried. "Go to Aragorn, now!"

Even with her forewarning, it was too late. As her arrow shot from her bow, the tentacle reached out to curl around Frodo's ankle. Frodo had frozen at Susan's cry. Now, he looked down, gave a gasp, and then yell as he was dragged out from the mine. Susan's arrow struck, and the tentacle reacted. It shot up into the air, and pulled back. Frodo was in the air, still yelling. And now, voices crying out for him were filling the air. The Narnians charged, with Aragorn and Boromir right behind. A great creature, like that of a faced octopus, arose out of the water.

Arrows, some fledged in red arrows while others were of the Mirkwood Elves, flew through the air. The beast was roaring. Aragorn was in the water, hacking at the tentacles, trying, desperately trying to get to Frodo. And then, the tentacle that held Frodo was cut through, and Frodo was free. The beast was now trying to bully its way onto the bank.

"Back into the mines!" cried Gandalf. With no other choice, everyone began to make their way into the mines.

"Archers!" Aragorn cried, and then, "Legolas!"

"Legolas!" Jill cried. "Get in here!"

There was a crack. The beast was now flailing its tentactles against the rock. Legolas moved, racing against time and enemy. Debris was falling, a rumble calling for a cave-in. Then, the Elf was inside the mine, just as the entrance to the mine crashed to the ground.

Darkness.

"Rilian, Eustace?" came the tentative cry of Jill.

"We're here," came the reply. And then came a flickering, yellow light. Relieved sighs came from all around.

"And now we have but one choice," came the grave words of Gandalf. Because now the entrance was gone, and the Fellowship was trapped. Trapped underground. With only one way forward.

And of course no one asked the Elf for advice.


	18. The Darkness of the Mines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Jill experiences some PSTD here.  
> Also, I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Expect sporadic updates from on.

Jill shivered. A full body shudder that goosebumps on every inch of her skin. She stared straight ahead, determined to paid no mind to the darkness closing in from all sides. The coolness of rock underneath her feet and against the palm of her hand. She kept her eyes on the pale, silver-gold light of Gandalf's crystal as led the way. It winked out, and Jill stifled a panicked gasp. The light! Where was the light? Where was she?

It was dark, and cold, and no, no, no, she was underground, wasn't she? She was down, underneath the earth, away from the sky and the sun and moon and stars. No, no, no! Not again. Why was she back here? Hadn't she and Eustace, and Puddleglum already rescued Prince Rilian? No! She could not be in the Unlit Lands again!

“I say,” came a voice. “Jill, are you alright?”

It was Eustace, and Jill fought to keep the relieved whimper inside. Eustace was here, right in front of her. He was with her, and everything will be fine.

“E-Eustace,” she said, reaching out. There he was. Or, at least, it was his shoulder. Jill believed it was shoulder.

“Steady, Pole,” Eustace said. And why was he was using her last name? He had stopped using it ages ago, when they had entered the True Narnia. Oh. _Oh!_

“I-I'm fine,” she gasped out. And she was, now that she remembered that she was no longer in the Unlit Lands. That Adventure had already happened. The poor creatures had been returned to the Deeper Lands, while the Lady of the Green Kirtle – the Green Witch – was dead. And she was not even in Narnia anymore, but it a new land. In a New Adventure.

“Jill?” another voice came, and she knew this voice too. It was Prince Rilian. Well, king, since he had been crowned and wasn't it still funny to think that it was his _grandchildren –_ to the nth degree – that ruled Narnia. But he understood her fear, better than anyone, because he had it worse.

“I'm okay,” Jill echoed herself. And she was. She really was. Because Eustace was in front of her, and Rilian was behind, and Rilian's hand was on her shoulder, and she could see Gandalf's light once again.

She breathed out slowly to release all of the tenseness which had come with the bout of fear, and then blinked when she realized at what an odd scene before her. Because _Legolas Greenleaf_ of all people – or Elf, or whatever there was in this in this strange, new land – was leaning in towards Gandalf.

For an instant, while Legolas gazed in high alert back towards the rest of the ground, she saw his eyes. His eyes, dark and glittering in the light of Gandalf's guiding, were wide and the white of his eyes were brilliant. Huh. That was different. Come to think of it, why was the Elf over by Gandalf anyway? Jill thought it strange that Legolas would take second-point when the Elf was content with guarding the rear. She stored her questions for a later date.

“Eustace,” she whispered. There was a subtle movement, of clothe shifting and she knew she had his attention.

“How long, do you know?” she asked. The weight of the empty cavern lay heavy on her shoulders.

“Whatever do you mean?” Eustace's voice ghosted her way.

“How many hours?” Jill expounded. There was another shift, and she knew it was a shrugg.

“I don't know,” Eustace admitted. “Gandalf said it was going to take five days to the other side, but Jill, it's dark, so it's going to seem much longer. You know, do you remember the thesis back in our world, about how being underground affects our senses?”

“Yes, yes, don't be a bore,” Jill hissed, determined to stop the impending rant. Of all the things that Eustace had stopped doing, this was not one of them, no matter how ill Jill thought of Eustace's lectures. He could still be unbearable pessimistic sometimes. Jill looked on ahead, squinting in the darkness, only to catch the faded silhouettes of her companions.

Gandalf, Legolas, Glimi, then came the Four Kings and Queens of Old, with Edmund leading the way just behind Glimi, then with Lucy, Susan and Peter. Then came the younger Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, with Caspian in front of them, with Eustace, herself and Rilian. Behind Rilian was Frodo and Sam, with Boromir behind the tow-headed Halfing. Aragorn walked behind Boromir, taking the rear.

Then she noticed the light was no longer moving forward. Gandalf had stopped, and everyone came as near as they could.

“Let me risk a little more light,” he murmured. He glanced at the rest of the company. “Did you know that the wealth of Moria was not in gold, or jewels, but in mithril.”

“Mithril?” Susan wondered aloud, before she joined in with everyone as they followed the light of Gandalf's staff as he swung into downward.

Jill heard herself gasp along with everyone else at the awesome sight in front of her.

The path were on had a ledge, but besides that, there was nothing but a yawning ravine endless kilometers down.

As far as the the Fellowship could see however, there was nothing but wooden and rope bridges and ladders, and great chains that clanked under the weight beneath the mountain. Everything was ancient, moldy or rusty, broken from disuse.

Along the walls and cliffs, there were veins of silver light glimmering against the light of Gandalf's guiding crystal.

“Come, let us continue,” Gandalf said after a long moment, and the light flickered back into a safer position, leaving the sight to be eaten back into the mysteries of the deep. And so they continued.

“Did you know,” Gandalf said after a bit. Jill sighed. What had happened to the 'quietly now,' of the wizard's instructions when they had first began their journey through Moria?

“That Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings that Thorin gave to him.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Glimi. “That was a kingly gift!”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Gandalf. “I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire.”

“What?” cried Susan and Peter. Edmund shook his head.

“Why would there be a shirt that is greater than the value of a small country?” he muttered. Legolas shrugged. He did not get Dwarves either. No one noticed Frodo's pale face.

It was then that they reached the stairs. The Narnians gapped at the steep stairs.

“That's, this,” Jill stammered. “Oh, bother and confound all Dwarves!”

“Lady Jill!” admonished Aragorn, while those of Middle Earth stared at her in confusion. Glimi looked on the verge of taking offense.

“Jill,” groaned the Four Kings and Queens and Eustace.

“Forgive the good lady,” Edmund spoke up. “She has had not the most favorable of circumstances concerning the race of Dwarves.”

“Ah, we are not easy to please,” Glimi said, accepting the apology just as Legolas murmured.

“I can sympathize with you on that, Jill of the Bow.”

It was a firm, silent agreement, to ignore the Elf. It was not worth getting irritated over for the petty, prolonged strife between the two races.

“Well,” Gandalf said. “When we are ready.”

“Right,” The Narnians turned to the stairs once more.

Despite the Narnians' concerns of the stairs, there had been only one incident. Pippin had slipped on the slippery edge of one of the steps, but he was easily caught by Peter, and steadied.

It was directly after the stairs that their first troubles came.

The Fellowship had entered a small area, with three exits, not counting the entrance from where they come. It was a ledge, good enough for rest, and one they desperately needed after climbing the Dwarvish stairs. Gandalf paused, and his knuckled turned white as gripped his staff.

“I have no memory of this place,” he breathed out.

Lost beneath the ground. Jill's mind flashed back to her last memory of being in similar situation.

“Oh, joy,” grumbled Jill.

"At least we can take a break," Pippin said.


	19. The Waiting of Warriors

Boromir stared off into the blackness, sitting atop the stairs leading down deeper into Moria. The Narnians had separated slightly from the rest of the company, sitting down the ground and leaned against the walls, as they joined everyone in waiting for Gandalf to discern what the correct path was. Aragorn was leaning nearby, talking softly with Legolas, while the Elf cared for his bow. The hobbits curled in the safety of small crannies behind the Elf and the two Men. 

Boromir glanced in the direction of the Narnians. Edmund had broken from the group and was talking quietly with Glimi. For some reason Boromir could not understand, the younger of the Narnian brother-kings had a fascination with all things Dwarvish. It made no sense. Why would a child of Man wish to know the occurrences of other races? Man had enough of their own troubles. But it seemed that those from the distant, and possible fabled, land of Narnia, were very different than those of Middle Earth.

The two sister-queens were looking after the Lady Jill and of their Prince-King, Rilian, son of Narnia's steward, Caspian. The darkness of Moria affected those to the greatest. It was strange. How could it cause such weakness? Prince Rilian, despite his apparent youth - and, apparently, his kinship to the stars! - had done admirable. The ladies too, had shown great fortitude. Something that both surprised Boromir and yet it was as he expected. Narnian women were of a different caliber than those of Gondor. Oh, what this? The High King was approaching. What did the Wolf's Bane want with him?

"Ay, Your Highness?" Boromir greeted Peter, as the Man slipped passed Aragorn and Legolas and made to sit next to Boromir. His actions caused the Elf and the Exile to look up. "What is your need?" "Ah, nothing so great," Peter returned, completing his action and sitting down next to Boromir. "Just the companionship of another warrior."

"Your brother and Steward are warriors," Boromir pointed out. Because... why had Peter come to him of all people? They had not conversed much, as Boromir was a point of stress between the Narnians and those of Middle Earth.

"Ay, in their rights," Peter conceded. "But Edmund is as much a scholar as he is a warrior. He is our just one for a reason, friend. And Caspian? Caspian is a different kind of warrior. The circumstances of his ascent to the Throne of Narnia, and his ventures during his rule have caused him to loathe shedding blood. He will do it if he must, but it is not his first reaction. He has not a warrior's heart, unlike you and I, Boromir of Gondor. Therefore, it stands to reason that at times, they cannot keep companionship with me."

Boromir nodded. Faramir was the same.

Someone sat on Boromir's other side, and both Peter and Boromir looked see Aragorn taking the open position, with Legolas standing beside him, just behind his shoulder.

"Are we sharing tales?" Legolas inquired.

"Yes, I meant to do so," Peter replied. "If Boromir is in agreement, you are welcome to join. I must admit, I am curious of how battles are done here."

"Indeed," Aragorn murmured. He pulled out his pipe from his bag, and began to prepare. "So, who shall begin?"

"You shared your story of receiving the name of Wolf's Bane last we conversed," Legolas said to the High King. "Perhaps it is time for the son of Gondor share? We have not heard much of you, Denathorion."

Boromir conceded. He was the lowest ranking of the four gathered, loathe as he was to admit it. Peter was a High King, Legolas an Elvish Prince, and Aragorn.... Aragorn was born into the lineage of the House of the Kings. Even if he would not take up the throne at this time, he would. Aragorn was born to be a king, while Boromir would be nothing but a Steward's son, soon thrust from his entitlement.

Frustrated with this reminder, he turned, as always, to Faramir. Tales of Faramir were Boromir's favorites to tell, for it was without his father's discouragement, that Faramir could live free.

Boromir found the High King of Narnia to be an avid listener, and a sympathetic one. Unlike Legolas or Aragorn, Boromir could see the understanding shinning through Peter's eyes. He also was the eldest, the one who held the responsibility of leading a country and people. He also had to care for his younger kin, and have the understanding that comes from experiencing a younger brother. If Legolas understood, he did not reveal it. Such was the ways of the Elves. And Aragorn, he was an Exile. Boromir did not understand the gleam in his eyes as the story went on. True to the nature of their enviroment, Boromir took care not to speak so loudly. So, when Frodo shifted suddenly, the four turned in his direction.

"Fr-" Peter began, when he caught sight of the Hobbit's pale face and wide eyes. He followed the Hobbit's gaze to find something moving in the dark.

"What?" Peter started, rising to his feet. But Aragorn reached from behind Boromir, and take hold of Peter's wrist. The Narnian twisted toward the Ranger, fire in his eyes, demanding an explanation.

"Steady," Aragorn whispered. "Do not give away our position."

Peter glared at Aragorn. Something was down there, and most likely, it would be a detriment to the Fellowship! He could not allow this! But Aragorn remained silent, his grasp a steel trap.

Frodo jumped to his feet and moved to Gandalf.

"Something's down there."

The emptiness of Moria caused Frodo's words to be heard by everyone nearby. The Fellowship stilled at Frodo's statement. Hands were laid upon hilts. Breathe was halted.

Without turning around, Gandalf answered.

"That is Gollum."

"Gollum!" Frodo's breathless, fearful cry drifted into the blackness.

"He has been following us for three days," Gandalf informed the company. Jill's teeth began to grind at this revealed detail. For three days?

"Steady, Jill," came Eustace's voice.

"I can't!" hissed Jill. "That little creature has been following us for three days! Three days, Eustace! And no one noticed! No one but Gandalf!"

"I know, I know," Eustace said, soothingly. At the same time, Lucy turned to stare disapprovingly at them.

"Quiet, you two," she said. "This is no time for bickering."

"-caped or set loose?" came Gandalf's wondering statement. Boromir ground at his teeth, just as Peter rocked on his heels. Aragorn still had a hold on the High King, while Legolas had tensed. A hissed 'set loose?!' came from Caspian.

Gandalf seemed in favour of ignoring the reaction of the Fellowship, and continued on at the same pace.

"And now the Ring has drawn him here. He will never be rid of the need for it. He hates and loves it, just as loves and hates himself."

There was a pause as Gandalf allowed the Fellowship the chance to process this new information, before continuing on. Aragorn tugged on Peter, who allowed himself to be seated once more. But there was nothing that would stop the Man from tracking the movement of the distant creature far below them.

"Sméagol's life is a sad story," Gandalf said softly. He glanced Frodo, "Yes, his Sméagol was he once called. Before the Ring found him... before it drove him mad."

At this further reveal, the Narnians hissed in anger, and muttering began in their campment. Boromir felt Peter tense up besides him, and thought he heard the High King mutter something about 'bloody Wizards.'

"It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance!" Frodo declared. And this, Gandalf's voice became sharp, as if scolding the Hobbit.

"Pity?" Gandalf said. "My dear Frodo, it was pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death, and some die that deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo?"

At his words, the Narnians winced, and Boromir caught Peter glancing towards his family. Towards Susan specifically, whose face was pale. Edmund's too, for some reason.

"No," came Lucy's voice. "Only Aslan can."

"What do you mean, Miss Lucy?" Sam inquired. Lucy gave a gentle laugh.

"Later, Sam, later, now is not the time," she said. And that was that. But the curiosity of those from Middle Earth grew at her dismissal. Gandalf sighed.

"Do not be eager to give out death and judgment," he told Frodo. "Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum still has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is all over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many."

"Ah, he's gone," said Legolas murmured. At the Elf's words, Peter relaxed. But then came Frodo's whispered reply.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened."

"Oh, don't say that," Lucy gasped, choking on those words. She stepped forward before Edmund stopped her. Lucy glanced back, confusion coloring her face. Edmund shook his head.

"So do all who live to see such times," Gandalf answered kindly. "But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought."

"Yes, Frodo," Lucy said, wresting herself out of Edmund's hold, and coming over to the elderly Wizard and the Hobbit. She laid a hand on Frodo's shoulder and knelt down to speak face to face with him. "Gandalf speaks the truth. Life is an adventure. Why do you think Aslan sent us here to help. It is you, Frodo, that was chosen. Just like four young children were thrust into the realm, chosen to rule over a whole country. It is the little ones that show the most courage. Isn't that right, Peter?"

"Yes, Lucy," Peter said, smiling as memories flowed through him. "You were always the bravest one of us all, Lu. And now, Frodo, it is your Journey, your Adventure."

Frodo stared up at Lucy, and then to Peter, and to Gandalf. His eyes desperately trying to convey something, but no one was sure what.

"You will be fine, Frodo," Lucy soothed. "You are not alone."

"Yeah!" Pippin cheered. "You have us, right, Merry?"

"Of course," Merry said, his eyes turning steel as he recognized something the Took could not know. "We aren't leaving you, Frodo. Not me, or Pippin, or even Sam."

And then, Gandalf perked up suddenly.

"Oh, it's that way!"

"He's remembered!" Merry cried happily, jumping to his feet. The Fellowship was quick to follow, with Jill and Rilian not far behind. Gandalf smiled, and laid a grandfatherly hand on Merry's shoulder, leading towards one of the entrance ways.

"No," he said, "But the air doesn't smell so foul down here. Remember, Meriadoc, if it doubt, follow your nose."

The Narnians suddenly remembered their old animals friends and burst out laughing.

The wait was over. They were lost no longer. They would continue. Together. Like always.


	20. Here lies Balin...

Edmund was enjoying himself, he must admit, and with so small regret. Already, he and Rilian had flashbacks, caught up in old memories caused by the touch of angry magic. Also, Jill was suffering due to being stuck under the mountain - also, there was Rilian's pain in the same situation. Now Caspian, the ever alert father, tried not to hover over his son. But Edmund was enjoying himself, even if some amount of guilt lay heavy upon him. He was here, experiencing another Dwarvish kingdom! He and Glimi had had prolonged conversations concerning Dwarvish topics.

And now, here was a Dwarvish kingdom, ancient and still proud. Gandalf had just brightened the area through flaring his guiding crystal, and the Fellowship had found themselves standing in the midst of great halls. Edmund felt small compared to the might of Moria, and he understood now the pride in Glimi's voice when he had spoken on the mines. Dwarves were awesome crafters, indeed. The finest, he must admit, as he saw the runic patterns upon the block pillars surrounding them. Dozens upon dozens of such pillars dotted across the span of the area, a fathom wide and even at a greater length. Edmund could not say where the great halls ended, only that enough space to build up and support at least a hundred pillars, each with a square width of a meter long. And the designs, so carefully wrought, that run up the base, and through the length, and back up the crown of each pillar! The ceiling was high, and for a race made smaller than Man, they created areas of great space. His friends and kin were talking, exclaiming in awe at the sight before them, but Edmund could not catch their words.

"This, Glimi," he said when he found his breath at last. "Is certainly something. What you said 'fore, I shall have to concur. A mine! No, tis not just that. You spoke truely, Master Dwarve, when you said it was kingdom, for this is such mastery."

"Ay," Glimi replied. "I am glad to have shown you the home of my people. My only wish is that you could been greeted by my kin!"

And then, as if reminded by his own words, Glimi looked around. Edmund knew something went dreadfully wrong, when the color of Glimi's face paled to white. Edmund followed to where Glimi's eyes had laid, and blinked when he saw the glimmer of sunlight distantly from a room off to the side.

"I say!" he began, before Glimi darted towards that with a cry. Edmund's heart lurched as he heard that cry, for he had heard many times before. It was the sound of grief. Edmund ran after the Dwarf.

"Glimi!" Gandalf called out, just as Lucy yelled Edmund's name.

Edmund paused in the entrance at the sight that met him. Glimi had stopped before a great block of black, polished stone. Obsidian? A single ray of light shone down on a runic inscription in the stone. Around the stone, there lay may skeletons, all in the throes of some gruesome death. Rusted weapons, beyond repair, lay scattered about the floor. Off to one side, an old well sat, but Edmund's focus was upon the Dwarve, whose countenance was swiftly falling. The second King of Narnia slipped into the room, and toward the despondent Dwarve, leaning to peer over Glimi's shoulder in an effort to read the inscription. No such luck.

"E-oh," Lucy's voice dropped from a scold to realization. Then her voice muffled. "Oh-no!"

"Oh," came Susan's low, sympathic moan.

Edmund bowed his head and a laid a comforting hand upon Glimi's shoulder, as the Dwarve's shoulders began to shake.

"No," came Glimi's voice, disbelief and sorrowing coating the repeating word. "No, no, no!"

There was a swishing of cloth, a forewarning of Gandalf's approach, before the grey of his robes blocked half of Edmund's view. Edmund held back a snarl as the presence of magic assault his senses. Gandalf wishes nothing but for the Ring to be destroyed, he reminded himself. He is not like Jadis. He will not harm anyone.

"'Here lies Balin'," came Gandalf's voice, heavy with grief, and tolling like a death bell. "'Son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then; it is as I feared."

At Gandalf's statment, that Glimi gave way to his grief, and wailed.

The whimpers of the women, muffled as they were as they tried to hold them behind their hands, sounded across the room. Edmund closed his eyes and breathed out a shaky breath. He looked up at the ray of light, and thought of Aslan.

"He's dead then?" Frodo said softly. "Dear old Balin is dead?"

"Ay," came Aragorn voice. Edmund opened his eyes once more, and looked towards Peter, as he always did. Peter's face was clouded with sorrow. There was no plan. Not yet, anyway. Even Legolas seemed affected by this death, for his head was bowed as well. There was a shuffle of cloth once more, and Edmund to find that Gandalf was handing off his hat and staff to Pippin, who was staring wide-eyed at everything.

Had Pippin ever experienced this before? Edmund wondered for a moment. The only answer he could understand was that Pippin had not known.

Gandalf bent to take a large book from the nearest skeleton's arms, and opened it. Dust and broken pages cracked and drifted to the floor. Oblivious to the happenings around him, Glimi began a mourning chant of his people. At the sound of Glimi's chanting, Legolas stirred and whispered something to Aragorn. Edmund glared at the Elf, who took no notice of him. Could he not give but a moment for the Dwarve? He had early.

And then came Gandalf's voice, low and weary.

"They have taken the bridge... and the second hall,"

Edmund tensed at the words. The last recording of Moria. Gandalf continued.

"We have barred the gates... but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums, drums... in the deep."

"Pippin, no," came a rushed whisper. Edmund spun around to find that Pippin had backed up, torn and afraid of his surroundings, frightened by the last recording.

"Pippin," he hissed. Pippin jerked up and halted. He was shaking. But he was still. Edmund gave him a tense, proud smile meant to encourage the young Hobbit, and Pippin nodded shakily. Edmund turned back to focus on Glimi and Gandalf, who was now turning the page.

"They are coming. We cannot get out."

Cree-ck...

Edmund twisted around, with the rest of the Fellowship following his movement at the ominous sound.

"Pippin, no!" Merry screeched beneath his breath. It was too late. Pippin had - why, Pippin! Why _would_ you _do_ that?! - turned the area, and with thunking sound, the skull of the skeleton leaning precariously upon the well, slipped off and down, down, down... and then, to the horror of all, it did not stop there, not even with Edmund running forward to stop the impending noise. The followed the skull, and then came a long, clanging, rusted chain, and then, just beyond Edmund's grasp, went a chest. Down, down, down into the well, with a great clanging and banging, and then... silence. Pippin slowly turned, wincing at each loud sound.

The thud of a book slamming shut.

"Fool of a Took!" snarled Gandalf. He snatched his hat and staff back, leaving Pipping empty-handed and flinching. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

"Stop that!"

Every turned, and found themselves staring at a livid Queen Lucy. She had been curled up against Peter. However, she now stood as tall as she could, with one foot forward, hands bunched into fists, curling the sides of her dress. Her eyes, rimmed red by recent tears, flared with anger. The Narnians, seeing Lucy as such, leaned forward, declaring their unity in her action. The others stared at the scene before them, astonished at the transformation. They had not had the chance to see Lucy in such a state yet.

"M-Miss L-Lucy?" Sam stuttered. But Lucy was focused on Gandalf.

"Don't you dare anything like that ever again!" Lucy cried. "Do you not see that it was an honest mistake. Yes, Pippin should not have done so, but there is no need to for such harsh words. You are a Wizard, Gandalf! A Wizard! You hold power, so you must understand how much power you hold. You cannot afford to become arrogant and presume too much! Do not say such words again! Not in my presence! No person should hear words such as those, for each life is precious. Is this not a Fellowship? Each has their part, and we cannot lose any part, lest this quest comes to ruinous end!"

"Hold your tongue!" Gandalf snapped back. "No one knows more than I how much this quest means - least of all you, child!"

"Do not look down on a wandering queen sent to aide you, Greyham," Lucy retorted. "I know you have just experienced a great loss. Balin was no ordinary Dwarve, given the reactions of all gathered, but do not misdirect your grief to anger upon an innocent victim."

Then she stalked past the Wizard and swept down to her knees. She cradled Pippin's head with her hands, and guided to lean into the side of her neck.

"Peace, little one," she whispered. "Do not take Gandalf's words to heart. He is grieving, and acted out without thinking. But you must also take care, and not act so impulsively. It might have ended badly."

There was a moment of silence, and then came Sam's voice, wobbly and uncertain.

"Um, what's tha' sound?"

The whole Fellowship tensed. What sound?

Boom-boom. Faces went pale.

Boom-Boom. Lucy stood slowly to her feet.

"Frodo?" came Sam's voice again. And then everyone noticed the strange, blue light emitting from the scabbard on Frodo's hip. Frodo drew out Sting, staring at the blue light.

"Oh, that's not good," groaned Eustace, just as Legolas gave cry.

"Orcs!"

Boromir and Peter both rushed to the door, only for Boromir to fall back, tumbling over Peter in his haste to escape the cry of angry arrows. The black-tipped projectiles thudded into the old wood. Aragorn twisted around, staring at the women and Hobbits.

"Get back!" he cried. "Stay close to Gandalf!"

Jill and Susan both gave him a look, while Lucy side-eyed Gandalf, who just sighed. But the Hobbits were quick to obey, crowding against each other and drewing their tiny weapons. Susan immediately began to arm her bow, while Jill positioned herself in preparation of the incoming battle. Edmund drew his sword, following Peter's example, just as Boromir slammed the door shut, and turned to the others.

"They have a cave troll," he informed the others, more exasperated than fearful.

"Quick!" Edmund said. "Block the door!"

Legolas leaped into action, passed pikes and staffs to Peter and Boromir, who slid them into place, while Aragorn hurried to arm his own bow. Glimi turns slowly, with wrath and a flicker of madness in his eyes, he raises his axe and leaps upon the obsidian stone.

"Let them come!" he bellowed. "There is one Dwarve that yet in Moria that still draws breath!"

"Oh, yes, let them come," said Rilian. "Revenge is sweeter when it is done last creature standing."

"I thought we had dealt with all desires of revenge concerning your family, Caspian!" cracked Edmund. Caspian scowled that the Just King, as the squeals and battle cries of the Orcs beyond began to grow louder. 

"Oh, yes," Caspian replied. "It's just my family, isn't it!"

"Focus now!" snapped Peter. "It's not the time!"

And the horde was at the doors, and the old doors creaked ominously under the weight pressing against it. Lucy and the Hobbits crept backwards, away from the door. While the Hobbits gathered themselves for their first battle, with quivering hands, and nervous glances, Lucy placed a steadying hand on Frodo and Pippin, and then looked towards the beam of light.

_Aslan_ , she thought, just as the pounding began. Gandalf gave a glance towards the young queen, before throwing off his hat and drawing his sword.

Lucy tensed as the head of a pike came throw the door with a crack, and then another, and another. The wood splintered and began to give way, and the Orcs flooded in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwa-ha-ha-ha! Cliffhanger ending!  
> Oh-no! What shall happen to our intrepid Fellowship?


	21. Battle in Balin's Tomb

Peter, High King of Narnia, called the Magnificant, otherwise known as Wolfsbane, steeled himself against the coming fight. Not in great years had he felt the rush of battle roaring through his veins. Now, beneath the mines of Moria, in the darkness, and with only a single ray of light to guide his sight, he felt it again. Once more, Peter the Magnificant, became what the Narnians of the Golden Age remembered him to be. The Warrior King.

He heard the stretching of bowstrings, heard the breaths of his companions. The singing of steel ready to spill blood.

The rush of wind, the song of arrows, and the death cries of his enemies. Battle was upon them. And the High King of Narnia would be ready, by the Lion's Mane.

The door fell with a thunderous crack, and the opponent poured in, roaring in their haste to destroy the Fellowship. A flash of red as Susan let loose her arrows, followed the white of Legolas', and dark shaft of Aragorn'. Jill's arrows, long since retouched with the feathers of Middle Earth, whistled in the dark.

And the enemy was upon them. Peter joined Boromir, the Son of Gondor from the left, and the King of Narnia on the right. Peter knew his kin and friends would not hesitate to join. The battle cry from Edmund sounded, and then the voices of Caspian, Rilian and Eustace rang out. Swords flashed and steel broke against the blackened metal. The din of dying orcs filled the room. They were not real opponents, Peter thought grimly as he cut down his tenth enemy already. Slow-witted, only made for violence and little else. A horde, then. Overwhelming numbers. He grinned viciously, entering into dance of war.

Later, much later, when everything was over and done, Aragorn would think back and understand for the first time why Peter was called Magnificent. Truly, Aragorn would say, there was no match for the High King of Narnia, in terms of majesty in the midst of battle. The High King, young and fair, faced with such terrible odds, overcame them with victory shinning his eyes, a bloodthirsty grin on his lips. His form would flow, his whole body seemed to dance, like water against a rock, or lightning hitting the ground. An image engraved into one's mind, forever to be remembered.

But here, now, there was only one thing on Peter's mind, and that was winning. He would win, to protect his family. To complete the task set before him.

A crashing sound, and dust scattered up, obscuring the door, and a rumbling, animalistic roar.

_The cave troll then._ Peter immediately classified the roar belonging to a beast of a larger size. He had faced giants before, and beaten them. The giants of Ettenmoors had not dared to move against Narnia until Caspian's reign, so great had been their fear.

And the beast stumbled in, gray-blue, slow, sluggish, and angry. No intelligence, Peter noted. A nuisance, nothing more. He could easy deal with him later, when it became too much trouble to ignore.

An arrow, and a pained sound echoed in that rasping cry. Enraged. Peter glanced back, to reassess his original statistic, only to see a red-feathered arrow fly by to lodge into the cave troll's hide, followed by one of Jill's. Legolas had been the first to shoot. He glared back at the two ladies. What were they doing? Jill pointedly ignored him, while Susan spared him an apologic glance, before focusing back on the battle.

Great. Now this creature was mad on top of everything else. He turned to deal with it himself, only to find himself otherwise engaged. Two more orcs jumped at him, squealing, shrilling. Peter was forced to focus on them instead of the troll. Where was Ed and the others? He glanced around, to find his brother and cousin back to back and circling as they tore through the numbers of Orcs. Caspian and Rilian were at the entrance, cutting down the opponents they could. Everyone was busy. The Hobbits had joined the fight. Where was Lucy? Peter scanned the room for his littlest sister. There she was, facing with expert form against those who tried to make a pass at her. Her spry body weaved in and away, ducking and cutting away. The Valiant One.

"Boromir!"

"Pete! Down! Now!"

Peter obeyed instantly, just as the thick chain of the cave troll's leash swung millimeters from his head. He did not stay down. He rolled to how side to avoid the stab from a pike as tension built up in his core. It peaked as he jumped at an angle, deflecting a second jab from the pike into the path of an oncoming blade. He pushed back, bringing his strength to toss his enemies into the air and against a nearby wall. They crumbled to the ground. With the struggling of the Fellowship ringing in his ears, Peter decided he was satisfied with the result, and turned toward the cave troll.

Balin's tomb had been desecrated, turned to rubble. Peter's companions were scattered, tossed and near beaten by the troll's hammer. His fury soared.

He had faced and beaten the giants of his world. This smaller beast would suffer the same fate. It was being distracted by Legolas, the nimble being dodging the wide strokes with steely eyes. Peter took this chance and attacked at the hocks on the cave troll. The beast wailed, and moved to face Peter. His movement forced Legolas to flip off the troll's head and back to firm ground.

Peter wove past the chain amd hammer, focusing his attack on the ankles of the enraged beast. Tendons ripped apart.

"Peter, watch out!"

Susan's yell broke through Peter's battle fury, and Peter jumped aside as a red-feathered arrow whistled by. It struck true, and the cave troll roared.

Peter stumbled as something hit him in the torso. There was no air! And now the Hobbits were screaming.

Focus!

And he was back. The troll was attacking the Hobbits, cornering them. Samwise was the ground, dazed.

No! Peter surged forward. Frodo was separated and targeted. He had to protect Frodo! The Quest was in peril! He had to protect the Ring!

The Fellowship was screaming for Frodo, while Frodo shouted for Aragorn. The Exiled King of Gondor struggled to reach Frodo. Peter felt rather than saw when Caspian and Edmund began to their toward Frodo's position. Dimly, Peter was aware of the lack of new Orcs. There! He was almost there!

No!

Peter hacked down the unfortunate Orc who had dared jump in front of him when gurgling sound of Frodo breached the room.

No! Aslan, this can not be!

A pause as the Fellowship took in the sight of Frodo impaled, watched him fall to the ground.

And then, renewed vengance, a refreshed wave of battle madness overtook the High King, and he charged.

It would be forever a debate on whom had the honor of downing the cave troll. Some would say it was Legolas, with an expert shot to the beast's eye, and whose arrows littered the hide, had finally killed him. Others would say that it was Peter, who had attack with such freocity that the feet of the offending creature had been severed from its body completely. Either way, the beast was gone.

But as the moment passed, and at last the Fellowship found themselves once more. Here, the first wave of Orcs had been defeated. The cave troll at last down. But there was no victory. Emptiness reigned as the Fellowship took in the sight of Frodo laying limply on the ground.

Peter stared in disbelief. The Fellowship, the Quest, had... Failed?

Lucy stepped forward, hesitately. One hand outstretched, the other over her mouth. Her face, though, was firm, determination shinning in her eyes. Peter offered an affirmative nod. As the Fellowship drew near, tentative and waiting, there came a sudden harsh sound. They halted, and Lucy was still a meter away from the Hobbit.

"'E's alive!" Sounded Samwise, relief so strong in his voice it almost broke out like a sob. Frodo jerked awake.

"I'm alive!" He gasped. "I'm not hurt."

"How?" Cried the Narnians, while Aragorn crept forward. Peter understood. Aragorn had taken responsibility for Frodo. He had to be sure of Frodo's health for his own peace of mind.

"You should be dead," Aragorn informed Frodo. "That spear could have skewered a wild boar!"

"I think there is more to this Hobbit than what meets the eye," intoned Gandalf. Edmund nodded gravely.

"Indeed, care to share, Frodo Baggins?"

Frodo shuttered his eyes shut, then opened them slowly, doing the same for his shirt, revealing shimmering white-silver beneath.

"Mithril!" Gasped Glimi. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

"Oh, that makes sense," Jill breathed out at the same time. But Eustace stared ar the shirt and then blurted out.

"Confound it all, Frodo! Just because the shirt the value of a small country has some protective means does not mean you should wear it!"

"It was a gift," replied Frodo in his small voice. "At the time I did not know of it's value. But I am glad for it."

"Of course," Peter smiled gently, forcing himself not to gaze at the Ring. "And we are glad for such a treasured gift. You wear it well, Master Hobbit."

In that short lull, where everyone just basked in the knowledge that Frodo was alive, there came a dreaded sound.

A triad of drums in the deep.

"Bother it all!" Cried Lucy. "Can't they leave us alone!"

"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," Gandalf said. He came up his feet and picked up his hat. "To the bridge of Khazad-dum!"

And to whatever fate Aslan has set for us, Peter mused as followed the others out. _Farewell, Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria, rest thee well now, good Dwarve._


	22. On the Bridge of Khazad-dum

Susan was exhausted. The grip on her bow was like steel, knuckles turning white. The adrenaline of battle had vanished, leaving her alone in the dark, limbs heavy. But she was still a Queen of Narnia. She had returned to her family. Aslan still trusted her to send her on an Adventure.

So even as a thousand more Orcs descended from the ceiling and climbed up from the ravines on the floor, their howling squeals screeching at her ears, she prepared herself to fight. They were surrounded, pressed closer than shoulder to shoulder.

Susan mused at the sight, notching an arrow to her bow. Where was the dreaded fear of death? The Fellowship was surrounded by an innumerable horde of Orcs. There was no escape.

Then why did she feel such steadfast peace?

And why was there a steadily growing horror building up her throat?

A deep, rumbling distant roar echoed across the Darrowdelf halls. Instantaneously, Susan her sister gasp for air. A being of wickedness, then.

And then she stared at the flickering of firelight in the distance. Firelight? Eustace, Jill and Rilian all stifled their reactions, but their faces were pale. So was Gandalf.

"What new devilry is this?" questioned Boromir, as the Orcs fled, returning back to where they come, like water across a plain. Legolas had become a stiff statue, eyes blown wide in fear.

Fear? Susan wondered at this, for there was only a handful of moments when the Elf had shown this level of emotion.

"A Balrog... A demon of the ancient world," replied Gandalf. Then his voice turned harsh with command and knowledge. "This for is beyond any of you. Run! Quickly!"

Those of Middle Earth jumped to comply immediately, turning and racing away from the It and glow and for the bridge. The Narnians only took a half-second more to follow. When had bren the last time they had been forced to retreat?

For a moment, Susan felt annoyance flare it's ugly head toward Gandalf. How would _he_ know if this was beyond the Narnians?

"Don't, Su," came Peter's voice. She glanced ar him and he raised a brow in reply as they ran - fled -from this unknown enemy. So, it seems, even after being separated, Peter could read her well.

Lucy screamed as a giant being, fire incarnate, emerged from a ravine just behind the Fellowship.

Ragnarok? Susan thought as she twisted around to look back, an arrow already on its way to defend her sister.

The arrow did nothing, and Susan's terror licked at her heels.

"Lucy! Susan!"

Strong arms grabbed at her wrist, pulling her away from the creature of both flame and shadow. It was Edmund, Susan knew. Peter had Lucy. Aragorn was now leading the retreat; while Gandalf turned to face the demon.

His hat was gone.

Why was Aragorn leading? The man did not like to lead. Had Gandalf pushed to do this? What was Gandalf planning to do?

Susan hated her mind at times like this. Why all these questions when all she had to do was run?

Down a flight of stairs, and then another. There was the bridge. The temperature was rising. Legolas was now in front. There was a slight gap in the stairs before the bridge, there by marks of time. Legolas leapt across, and stretched out his hands to help the others.

"Ladies first," urged Peter. If there had been time, Susan would have showed her displeasure. But now was neither the time nor the place, and this period of time was much like Narnia's than the England she had been in only months before. She accepted Legolas' hand and leaped across.

"Go," said the Elf. Susan would have loved to comply. The exit was only meters away. Daylight was there! She see the grey natural light of the outside world. Unfortunately, the Orcs had a different idea. She whirled around as black arrows began to whistle and stab the area around her, notching and sending her own after them. Legolas was free to bring Jill and Lucy over the gap, and Jill joined in with dispatching the Orc snipers.

"Go, Lucy! Run!" ordered Susan. Lucy glanced at her, and then back at the company with wide eyes. It was only when Peter gave her a confident obey-your-sister nod, that she did so, running for the exit, ducking the arrows sent after her. Susan snarled, and she could hear Jill growling. Eustace and Rilian were across the bridge, and racing after the Youngest Queen. Then came Edmund and Caspian, without assistance. The Balrog was drawing near.

"Gandalf!" Legolas breathed out, and the Wizard went over.

"Go!" said Gandalf to Susan and Jill. "You can do no more here."

There is much we can do here, Susan wanted to protest, but one glance at Jill and she knew what she had to do. Legolas had began to return fire on his own.

"Right," she said, she tugged at Jill. "Let's catch up to Lucy."

Jill glared at Gandalf, then at Susan, before allowing the Eldest Queen to drag her toward the entrance. They were almost there when there was a ominous cracking sound. Susan's eyes widened and spun around.

"No! Peter!" She screamed when she saw that Peter, Aragorn, Frodo and Glimi still on the staircase. The stability had left.

"Glimi! Jump!"

Glimi did so, being caught by his beard by Legolas. The Elf's eyes were like blue steel.

"Not the beard!"

"Would you rather be dead?!" Jill snapped from her position. Peter's eyes jerked up, locking thrm to Susan's.

"Peter," she whispered. And thrn the staircase began to waver. Peter braced his teeth, and balanced as best he could. Susan could see that he was fighting to not touch Frodo. Aragorn was telling Frodo to lean forward, following Peter's example. The High King, nearer to the bridge, leaped over. For a second, Susan gasped as she saw Peter disappear from her sight.

Boromir moved. He left Merry and Pippin and swept arm over the edge, catching Peter by the wrist and pulling him up to the bridge. Susan could tell that he brother was giving thanks.

And now Aragorn and Frodo were on the bridge. The staircase disappeared into the abyss, falling with great noise. And then, there was the Balrog.

The temperature rose immediately, as the Fellowship remaining stared up in horror at the being.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf ordered, and the others flew.

"Wait, Gandalf!" Yelled Frodo.

What is Gandalf planning? Susan wondered. For Gandalf had stayed behind. The others, hearing Frodo's yell, turned around.

Gandalf was standing on the bridge, sword in one hand, staff in the other. The sensation of magic bursting into the air, challenging the shadow beast.

"You cannot pass!"

"Gandalf!" Frodo shrill cry rent the air, and Aragorn moved to intercept the panicked Hobbit, preventing him from getting closer.

"I am a Servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!"

"Gandalf, what do you think you are doing?" Peter roared.

"Silence!" Aragorn snapped. "Gandalf cannot break focus!"

"Gandalf!" wailed Frodo, desperate to reach the Wandering Wizard.

The Balrog took a step onto the bridge, and a burst of silver light surrounded Gandalf. The firewhip crackled as it snapped the air.

"You shall not pass!" Gandalf yelled. And then, as Peter and Boromir moved toward him, the old man drove his sword and staff into the bridge itself. A resounding boom broke out, and where the Balrog had rested its weight crumbled. The Balrog fell.

Gandalf turned, and Susan saw the weariness in his shoulders. Aragorn loosened his hold on Frodo, and the Frodo moved toward Gandalf. Then Susan saw the firewhip image from the deep and gave cry.

"Watch out!"

The whip curled around Gandalf's ankle like a serpent ready to strike, and the Fellowship froze. Gandalf jerked, and fell back.

"No!"

Susan wasn't sure who yelled out, only that several voices were in that single cry. Peter rushed forward, seeing Gandalf hanging to the edge. It was for naught.

Gandalf said something, and then he gone, following the Balrog into the deep. 

Frodo screamed.

Susan went still. No. It was impossible. It couldn't be. Gandalf couldn't have.

But it was. He had.

Gandalf was _gone._

Susan was not sure how she got outside. She blinked, and she was being held up by Peter. Frodo's cries were gone, but now the other Hobbits had taken up the cries. Lucy was crying. Susan was crying.

And then came Aragorn's voice, harsh and broken, but trying, desperately trying to stay strong. He was now the leader.

"Legolas, get them up! Narnians, steel your hearts."

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!"

That was Boromir.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs," returned Aragon. Susan understood. The man was in deep pain, but he had a company to look after.

And so, even with their hearts heavy with grief, the Fellowship had to continue on.

Lothlorien was near.

Susan almost wished Aslan had not sent them on this Adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Oh, my heart!  
> I don't think I did well on this chapter. Oh, well.  
> Lothlorien is next.


	23. The Unexpected Visit

Caspian fought the scream building in his chest. Why? Why was it like this? They had finally entered the forest of Lothlorien, seeking a place of rest and comfort; instead, Edmund and Rilian went immediately into an episode. Now Caspian held Rilian tightly to himself as he listened to Aragorn and Legolas argue against Peter and Boromir.

"We cannot stay here!" Peter snapped. "I will not allow my kin and allies any harm. Surely there is elsewhere that we may rest?"

"Not that we can travel to safely," said Aragorn. "High King, please, I see the suffering of your brother and of Rilian, but this place _is_ a place of rest."

"Lady Galadriel has compassion," Legolas entered. "If we continue on, we will find respite."

"Yes, you shall," fought Peter. "But as you have seen, magic this strong -"

"Peter! Look!"

The four turned at Lucy's cry, and the Narnians gasped at the sight. Rilian stirred in Caspian's arms.

A huge lion stood a small distance away, golden and bright.

Legolas stared at the beast and gave cry, reaching out, just as the Narnians did the same.

"Eru!"

"Aslan!"

The Lion stayed where he stood, but all could feel his presence.

"Aslan?" Lucy questioned, bewildered by the Great Lion's lack of action.

"It's a trick!" cried Glimi. "From the Elf Witch!"

Aslan _snarled_ at the Dwarve's cry. Legolas flinched.

"Why must it always be Dwarves?" groaned Jill.

"The Elf Queen of Lothlorien is not a witch," the deep voice of Aslan rolled through the clearing.

"It talks! Merry, the Lion is talking."

"Yes, Pip, I heard it myself."

A low rumble. A lion's purr.

"Rilian, Edmund, return to yourselves. You are safe here in Caras Galadhon."

As he spoke, the Lion moved closer. Boromir's hand moved for his sword, while Narnians and Legolas drew in the sight of the beast like men thirsting in the wilderness. He watched as Caspian allowed the Lion to bow it's head and breathe on his son, before going to do the same on Edmund.

"Suffer no more, my kings."

Rilian and Edmund drew in sharp breathes, and then lurched to sit up. Edmund, seeing Aslan before, lunged forward to embrace him. Legolas uttered a strange noise at the sight.

"Peace, Narnians. I am here. It appears that you were affected greatly by Galadriel's magic. Do not fear her, she is one dear in my heart."

"No fear, then," spoke Peter.

"Draw near to me," said Aslan, and the Narnians came closer.

"All of you,"

The rest of the Fellowship tensed, and then Legolas obeyed.

"Eru," he whispered. The rest followed the Elf, caution darkening their faces.

"Do not be afraid, little ones," Aslan said. "Those who answer my call do need to fear me. Go forth, my children."

"Eru," came Legolas' echoing word.

"Peace, child," Aslan did, turning his gaze on the Mirkwood Prince. And then, he breathed on all of them. When they came to themselves, he as gone. 

"That was sumthin', right Mister Frodo?"

"Indeed, Sam,"

"Legolas? How do you fare?"

Susan looked at the moment of silence. And in the Elf's eyes were depths she could not understand. Aragorn seemed to, though, for he breathed out shakily.

"Right," he said. "Now then, if everyone is ready, shall be venture further into the trees of Lothlorien?"

"Lead us forward, Aragorn, we are recovered." Peter responded. And into Lothlorien, the Ring went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened. I really don't. I had a plan, I had an outline, but Aslan hijacked this chapter. We shall meet Galadriel next time. I promise.


	24. The Lady of Lothlorien

Lucy was crowding him again. Edmund stifled a laugh at Lucy's attempt at subtle hovering, before swallowing a sigh. He looked upward. Lothlorien was beautiful, clean and bright - golden. He almost wished that dryads existed in Middle Earth, just to see how they would appear before them. Before him, leading the Hobbits, stalked Glimi.

"Look, Lucy, at our Master Dwarve," he whispered, nudging her shoulder.

"Huh?" Lucy murmured, then giggled. "Oh, I guess in whatever universe there is, Dwarves shall forever be the same."

"Oh, what could he be saying?" she continued on. "Pippin's face is as white as a sheet. Come on, Ed."

Edmund smiled, and was glad. Though magic thrummed against his skin, and the sensation caused his hairs to stand on end, there was no rising panic, no debilitating paralysis. _How good is Aslan that he would do this for Rilian and I_.

"Stay close, Hobbits,"

And now they were coming up behind the small company.

"You can't believe whatever a talking lion tells you," he was saying. "There is an Elf-witch that lives here, and all who see her fall under her spell."

"Oh, Glimi," Edmund spoke up. "You wonderful Dwarve, do not change. But that was no ordinary talking lion. That was Aslan, or, in this land, I suppose his name goes by Eru."

"Eru?" Frodo's eyes widened. "The same in the stories the Elves told in Rivendel, about the creation of the world? That Eru?"

"Yes, I believe him to be the very same," said Edmund. "Remember Lucy, what Old Professor Digory told us?"

"Oh, yes," Lucy said. "You see, Master Hobbits, Master Dwarve, Aslan sang Narnia into being as well."

"Really?" Pippin asked, and both Pevensies nodded. Edmund gestured for them to keep walking. Then, there was a press of focusing magic, and Frodo gasped. Edmund spun around.

"Frodo?"

The Hobbit's eyes were glazed, intent on something unseen by the others. Edmund tensed. Beside Frodo, Sam pursed his lips and came nearer.

"Mister Frodo?"

The whole group tensed at the sound of a dozen bowstrings growing taunt. Immediately, Legolas and Susan had their bows out the moment the noise made itself known.

"Ach! You can't believe those tales of singing the world into being!" Glimi protested, not recognizing the situation. "I still say there is an Elf-witch about these parts, but never fear, here is one Dwarve that she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk, and the ears of a fox!"

"Glimi, be silent!" Edmund hissed, worry curling up in his throat. He was only one who was yet unaware of the situation.

"What?" Glimi said, and then gulped at the arrowhead pointed milimeters away from his nose. "Oh."

Lucy stood with her arms wrapped around the Hobbits, Peter, Boromir and Caspian had formed a triad around Jill, Eustace and Rilian - all who seemed quite unhappy of the hint that _they_ were the others who needed protecting. Edmund forced himself not to make an sudden move, and certainly not any motion toward his sword.

Elves, all bright with fair hair, unlike the Elves of Rivendell, surrounded the Fellowship with bows drawn and arrows nocked. There was movement as one approached. The captain of the patrol, Edmund noted. One in authority. He also took note that he immediately approached Aragorn. He did not spare a glance to the others, not even to Legolas. How strange. Was Lothlorien not in good graces with Mirkwood?

"The Dwarve breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark," the Elf quipped. A jest as an opening line, it meant well for the Fellowship. These Elves would not be hostile unless forced into that position.

"Peace, Glimi," he murmured when the Dwarve growled at the perceived slight. Edmund knew that he was being graced with a dirty glare from the Dwarve, but ignored the annoyance washing off Glimi. The Quest took precedance over anything else, even the deep past of grieves the races held against each other. There had to be unity for this Adventure to succeed.

"Come," said the Elf, "We shall lead you further in. Without escort, you would receive an arrow through the heart without warning."

"Really, how comes this harsh defense to fall over this land?" Peter inquired. The Elf's gaze shifted over to Edmund's brother, and Peter stiffened under the full brunt of those eyes.

"There are very few sanctuaries for Elves left in the good land of Middle Earth, child of Man," he said. "And as the threat of the East and of the nameless fear grows ever steadily, so we must fortify what little we have left, that it may be preserved."

Then the Elf turned away.

"The Lady has permitted them entrance into Caras Galadhram," he said. "However, the Dwarve must go with a blindfold!"

"What?" came the cry of several different voice.

"No! That's not fair!" Eustace spoke up. "He's a part of this company. Sure, he's a Dwarve, but why must he be the only one who is being forced to be blinded?"

"Are you suggesting that your whole company walks through Lothlorien with eyes covered?" said the Elf - they had yet to have receive a name, which was very rude of them.

"Why can't he walk without a blindfold?" Lucy inquired.

"He is a Dwarve, daughter of Man," replied the Elf. "And therefore, must be treated as fairly as Lothlorien has done with any of his ancestors. Dwarves have fought against our Lord and Lady, and have caused chaos before in these parts. It is simply a precaution."

"It shouldn't be like that!" Merry gave cry. The Elf gave a heavy sigh, as if he was suffering at the whims of children. They probably were children in his eyes, Edmund mused. Then the Elf glanced at Aragorn.

"What say you?"

"I shall not suffer one member of our group for the rest," Aragorn said. "We shall go with a blindfold, or without. The choice is yours."

"Very well," the Elf said and gestured into the air, causing several of the Elves to step forward. "As law dictates that no Dwarve shall seen the paths to the Lady's Sanctuary, this Fellowship shall be put under blindfolded and be guided."

"What?" Legolas cried. "No! Why must we all go blind?"

"I apologize for the inconvenience, distant kin," the Elf said.

"Aragorn?!"

But Aragorn just shook his head, and spoke quietly to the Elf in the lilting language. Legolas frowned, his eyes glittering in disappointment and frustration, but he allowed himself to be blindfolded with the rest of the company. Edmund felt his heart clenching as darkness overtook him, and his other senses strained to compensate. With the taste of magic on his skin, he feared a lapse. But none came. Aslan had cleared away the terror in his heart. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and then other on his hand.

"This way, good guest," came a whisper in his voice. "Forgive this intrusion. Trust that I will not lead you astray."

"Of course, I am placing my life into your hands," Edmund responded. "Guide me well, good Elf."

His guide excelled at his task, and by the silence of the company, but for Glimi's grumbling, and Legolas' prevailing waspishness, the rest of the guides were just as accomplished. For hours, the Fellowship and their escorts went through the forest. He had almost lost track of time, when suddenly, they stopped.

"We are heading up into the trees, good guest," uttered his guest. "Do I have your permission to aide you?"

"You do," Edmund said. He could hear the rest of the guides asking the same question to the others. And then, he felt wood beneath him, and the swaying of the tree on all sides. And the blind came off. He blinked at the dimness. It was late already?

He glanced around. Legolas, once understanding where he was, actually seemed somewhat relaxed. Susan and Jill, however crowded around Peter and Eustace. Even Eustace seemed ill at ease being up in a tree, without rails. But Edmund grinned at Caspian, who answered with a gleam in his eye.

"Speak now," said the captain Elf. "We are safe from prying eyes and ears."

Then he turned to Legolas and gave the traditional Elvish greeting, bowing his head slightly and with a hand placed on his chest.

"Do you know what they are sayin'?" Edmund heard Pippin whisper to Frodo, who shook his head. Edmund frowned, mirroring Lucy and Frodo's growing listlessness. Something was bothering the Hobbit. But what?

"He is greeting Legolas," Aragorn spoke up. "'Welcome, Legolas, son of Thranduil.' and Legolas replied: 'Our fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lorien.'"

"Oh, so his name is Haldir, then," Eustace piped. "Good to know."

"Please accept my apologizes on his behalf," Aragorn said softly. "Haldir oft forgets the traditions of Man. Most of his life has been spent under the leaves of Lorien, and does not interact with many other than his own kind."

"Right," Eustace sighed.

"Ar, Aragorn!" Haldir called to Aragorn, who nodded his head towards the company and then turned to focus his attention on Haldir.

Beside Edmund, Glimi shifted and growled.

"Forget this Elvish nonsense," he growled then spoke up before Edmund had a chance stop him. "Speak words we can all understand!"

Edmund sighed at the lingering side-glance Haldir spared the Dwarve.

"We have not had dealing with the Dwarves since the dark days," he stated. Beside Edmund, Lucy whimpered, and Edmund fought the urge to call order.

"And do you know what this Dwarve says to that? -"

"Oh, by Jove, don't!" Edmund gave cry, whirling on the Dwarve. They were under his rule. He was their regent, the one whom they trusted. And he would not let this go. No, not when Glimi could ruin their chances of rest. Gandalf was gone, they had been traveling many miles before reaching Lothlorien, with Orcs on their heels, and now, they had walked through a forest for hours, while _blindfolded_. Edmund was tired and wanted his rest. And nothing, and come wrath or ruin, or the stubbornness of Dwarves, he would get it.

"Glimi, stand down," he hissed. "I understand you have just witnessed the empty tombs of Moria, of which were supposed to be filled, but for the sake of the Fellowship, lay down your grieves for a night, so that we may rest."

There was a beat of silence, and then Glimi grunted.

"You have my thanks, Master Dwarve," Edmund said. He looked up at Aragorn and Haldir, and found that Aragorn nodded his thanks to him. Haldir had a calculating gleam in his eyes, and Edmund wondered briefly at that. Then Haldir looked at Frodo and frowned.

"You carry great evil with you," he said. "As our Lady states, you shall stay here tonight, but you can go no further."

"So you blindfolded us and walked us for miles, all for nothing?" Jill sounded near tears.

"Not for naught, daughter of Man," Haldir said before turning away. At this, Peter collapsed to his feet and opened his arms. Susan and Lucy curled up next to him, but Edmund, curious at the sight of Aragorn following after Haldir, hissing and speaking furiously at the Elf in his own tongue. Legolas spared him a glance, and then focused on the argument.

"You are a quiet one, King Edmund," finally the Elf spoke.

"I prefer the peace of my mind, then the foolishness of the mouth," Edmund replied. He glanced at as Aragorn argued with Haldir.

Legolas nodded and checked his bow, then his arrows.

Minutes turned an hour, then two. Edmund glanced over his siblings and found that most of the Narnians were asleep. However, Caspian and Peter were not. Both seemed unable to focus. That did not bode well.

"'We need your protection. The road is fell',"

"Huh?" Edmund blinked at Legolas' sudden words.

"The translation of Aragorn's argument," Legolas said. "I thought that maybe you would like to know. You seemed the wisest of all your sibling and kin."

"I would not claim that title," Edmund said. "Though I thank you for your thoughtfulness. Please continue."

And so Legolas did, translating what he could from Aragorn and Haldir's dicussion.

As night faded and morning began to stir, Haldir made his way over to the company.

"You will follow me," he said. And Edmund breathed a sigh in relief. And then he realized that he had not slept the whole night, and weariness dug deep claws into his bones. 

But it was with a lightness in his chest when as the morning sun drew over the heads of the trees, they were shown the great forest of Lothlorien.

And it was even greater still when they arrived from stairs of silver light and white decor, to the waiting halls of Lorien, and Galadriel moved to greet them.

"Welcome, travelers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... Ugh...   
> So I didn't entirely follow script. Sorry if anyone's favorite lines got cut. Also, that blindfold section, it was one of my favorite scenes in the books that ended up not making it into the movies.
> 
> *shrugs* I can only do so much. Until next time!


	25. Galadriel

Rilian stared up at the woman standing before them. No. She was no mere daughter of Eve, she was of the Elves. But her appearance was of the stars themselves. There was Magic surrounding her.

She looked like his mother.

He turned his head slightly, making eye contact with his father and saw an expression of understanding and awe in his eyes. There was no chance to speak, for as soon as the Elvish Lady had greeted them, the Lord of Galadhon began to speak.

As he did, Rilian, who often wondered what his mother's father was like, immediately thought that his grandfather on his mother's side would be similar to Lord Celeborn. Stern and focused.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Sixteen there are, yet seventeen there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak to him. I cannot see him from afar off."

At the mention of Gandalf's name, a flash of hot grief shot through the Fellowship. Heads bowed and fists clenched. At their reaction, Galadriel spoke softly, her voice tinged with surprise and sorrow.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow."

Her realization and proclamation struck at the hearts of the entire Fellowship. Rilian felt the weight of failure come to land on his shoulders. They had _failed_ to keep safe the Fellowship!

"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame," Legolas' voice came out just above a whisper, and Rilian heard in the Elf's voice a sound he never thought he would hear from the Mirkwood Prince. Grief. Legolas affirmed the terrible truth as he relayed the cause of Gandalf's death to the Lady of Lothlorien.

"A Balrog of Morgoth."

Silence fell upon the company.

Rilian could not keep his eyes cast down at the platform holding him up. He turned his gaze to the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, and while Celeborn had let his eyes drift downward in horrified sorrow, Galadriel made eye contact with the King of Narnia.

Rilian froze at the touch of Magic brushing at him. No! He wanted to wail. She was trying to get into his mind. No, not again! He refused!

And then it was gone, and he was left staring the Elf Lady in terror.

_Forgive me, traveler from afar._ Those blue eyes said. Rilian allowed his eyes to disengage. _You are forgiven_. He allowed his posture to reply.

But what was this? Legolas had said something else, something that had Edmund tant with sympathized offense.

"Legolas!"

There was Lucy, protective and scolding. What had Legolas said?

Galadriel smiled down on Lucy, one of pride and curiosity, before address the Elf from Mirkwood.

"Needless were none of deeds in Gandalf's life."

Oh. So the Elf was blaming Glimi. Typical, and bother it all! Can't they, haven't they been in an truce, uneasy as it was?

Galadriel went on, comforting Glimi and washing away the sting of Legolas hidden barbs. She cast her eyes on each in the Fellowship native to Middle Earth. Rilian noticed that she did not linger on his fellow Narnians. Prehaps she had realized that such actions towards them would only repel the strangers from a different world?

However, those who she did let her gaze to swallow, reacted. Beside him, Boromir covered his face and choked back a sob.

Rilian felt his queens tense at how this Elf Lady seemed break a man with only her eyes. However, Galadriel also saw this, and with another of her small, knowing smiles, moved on.

"What becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," Celeborn intoned in the gravest of voices.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Lucy said. "But hope is not lost. Why else would we, travelers from beyond the map, be summoned to aide in this quest."

"Our sister is right," Edmund said. With one hand he held firm to Lucy's elbow, the other lay on the pummel of his sword.

"Gandalf is -was- wise and powerful, but it was not he who was the hope of this quest. That would be Frodo Baggins of the Shire, who took it upon himself to bring the dreadful item of the Enemy to where it could be unmade."

"Well said, son of the Edain," said Galadriel, a pleased gleam shinning in her eyes. "This Quest stands upon the edge of a knife, stray but a little, and you will fail. It is as you said, for hope remains, while the company is true."

"Do not let your hearts be troubled," she continued. "Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Narnians, Kings and Queens, regent od this unknown land, a moment your time. My Lord and I have want to speak to you."

The Fellowship bowed, and Rilian found himself staying while the others native to this world were lead away.

"Come, this way," Galadriel said, walking towards a different entrance. Not up nor down the great tree, but around it. The Narnians followed, with Peter in the lead and Eustace and Jill in the rear.

It was time to talk to the rulers of this land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That's done! I had such trouble with this chapter. Sorry it is so short.  
> But I should be back on track.
> 
> See you next time!


	26. Narnian Nobility and Elvish Etiquette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I have decided to go completely off script.
> 
> During the laments for Gandalf, the Narnians converse with one of the eldest and wisest beings in Middle Earth.

Caspian could not take his eyes off the Elf who glided in front of him. With her arm resting on her lord's forearm, and her almost white, blonde hair flowing out behind her, and her garments all white in the sliver light, she appeared as a woman of the Stars.  
Beside him, Rilian was all tenseness. The man remembered his mother, and this Galadriel only renewed the longing. The mother of his child had not joined them in the True Narnia.

Ahead of them, Peter led Susan, and Edmund led Lucy, and behind them, Eustace and Jill walked side by side.

The Elf Lord and Lady led the Narnians into a side chamber. It remained on the outside of the tree, with a canopy overhead, held up by slender and decorative pillars. Crystals shinning with starlight provided ample lightening. As with For one's council, chairs had been laid in a circle. White, and fragile in appearance, but Caspian had learned that Elves wrought things to last. Celeborn and Galadriel turned around, and the Lady gently motioned for the Narnians to take a seat.

They did so, with Peter taking the seat on Lord Celeborn's right, and the others following his example, ending with Jill seating herself on Galadriel's side.

Lord Celeborn lowered the Lady Galadriel down upon her chair, before sweeping aside extra folds of clothe to be seated himself.

"We received word of your arrival by messenger from Lord Elrind, and at once desired to speak with you," Celeborn began. "The Lady Galadriel has many gifts bestowed upon her, being in her years. One such gift is a small gift of foresight."

"You can see the future?" Edmund questioned.

"At times, young King of Man," Galadriel said. "But it far and few between, and not on my own choice."

"What has this to do with us?" Eustace spoke up. "Did you know we were coming?"

"Another prophecy?"

The sound that came from Susan was too refined to be a groan, but it conveyed her thoughts on the matter. Not another prophecy. However, Galadriel shook her head slightly.

"No," she answered. "There has been no word of your coming. But you have the same sense coming from you as ones whom have spent much time in the presence of Eru."

At the name, the Narnians.

"You know As-Eru, I mean?" Rilian asked.

"I know him by the name Eru," Galadriel answered. At that moment, a quiet sound drifted into the open area. A song of mourning.

Galadriel lowered her head, and was followed by the Lord Celeborn. But Caspian locked eyes with his son. The sound, though different, held a similar song to what the Stars had.

A solemn grief crept through the seated company as memories of Gandalf came to the forefront.

"So passes Mithrandir, Gandalf the Grey, the Wandering Wizard, who came to walk with us from the Eternal Isles. May his soul not reside in the Hall of Mandos for long. May he be welcomed into Eru's arms," Celeborn said softly. The soft murmurs of agreement swept through them.

The Elvish Lord straightened.

"I had want to speak with Gandalf, but Aragorn will do when he has rested and his heart does not weep bitterly. In the interim, we shall speak to you."

"Your coming was unlocked for, a welcome surprise to the Free Folk of this world. It is welcome indeed, for while the Enemy knows the ways of the people of Middle Earth, he cannot calculate yours. Your coming is from Eru, a gift. Do not misuse it."

"We thank you for your words," Peter said, leaning forward. "But, to tell the truth, there is little else any one would share with us concerning this Enemy."

"The Enemy is ancient, one of the Malinor cast down because he sought to change Eru's song of Creation. He was a folliwer of the First of the Nameless," Celeborn said and did not stop. He and Galadriel went on, telling stories with the Narnians.

It was late when the Lord and Lady of Galadrian ended their tales and the Narnians understood the weight of their Quest. But Caspian did not miss the glances the Four Kings and Queens gave one another.

"You are given persmission to ask," Galadriel said. "This time is not for Elves alone."

"Forgive us," Susan said, then allowed Edmund to speak on the Four's behalf.

"This Nameless One sounds like the Great Enemy in a story my brother and sisters and I know. Before we returned to Narnia, we found Eru - Aslan, for us - in those pages. But never fear, we are determined to see this Quest through to victory. We will not allow this land to fall, not when Aslan has sent us to give aide."

"The Lord Elrond believes that Men are not ready to lead," Celeborn stated. Caspian smirked. The Four would tear down this thinking.

"Men are _able_ to lead, they will rise when given opportunity. I am sorry that the Lord Elrond has lost faith with our race, but he should watch carefully. Men are about rise."

"We have a saying in Narnia, told out of time out of mind, a prophecy, if you will, that "When Adam's sons and Adam's bones, sit upon Fair Paravel in throne, the evil times will over and done." It means that everything will be put right when Man sits on the throne."

Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged knowing looks. Then Galadriel turned to smile upon the Narnians.

"I will be glad to see this proverb come to pass here in Middle Earth. But come, we have long kept you from the rest of yourcompany. Go, you will find a guide waiting for you who will take you to the rest of the Fellowship. It is good that you have been sent to our aide. May Eru's Song be on you."

With those words, Galadriel rose to her feet, and gestured to the others to do the same. The Narnians did, and walked out of the area. But before Caspian and Rilian could, Galadriel spoke to them.

"I have seen Stars shine through your eyes, King Rilian of the Silver Chair. The Stars are blessed and sacred amongst the Elves. May your lineage serve you well."

Rilian nodded, not sure of what else to say, and then they were following behind the rest of their companions.

"Our guide's name is Elefindir," whispered Jill to the two.

"Our thanks," Caspian responded. And then fell silent. This place was like a more lightheartedness, but also carried the weight of time. It was strange, and the need for silence was heavy of the group.

"They are still lamenting the passing of Gandalf," came Eustace's quiet voice.

At last, they came to the rest of their company, and it was almost a surprise to find them all asleep. Even Legolas lay on his back, and did not stir at their coming.

"If the ladies will follow me to a separate area nearby." Elefindir said.

"Right, one moment," said Susan. She, Lucy and Jill bid their companions a good night and went to their own prepared area.

The sleep that night was the best they had encountered since the start of their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took so long! I struggled with this chapter so much!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for sticking around. Until next time!


	27. Temptation Under the Trees

Peter woke with a start, cut off from his sleep within an instant. He was halfway through rolling out of bed while reaching for Rhindon when he realized where he was, remembering why he was there. He halted in his movement, and returned to his sleeping mat with a groan.

_What? Why? Why had he been pulled out of sleep?_ He closed his eyes and focused, listening. Nothing. Everyone was still asleep... so why...?

No. Not everyone was asleep, Peter realized, after opening his eyes once more and looking after the Fellowship.

Frodo was gone.

And with him, the Ring.

Peter froze. Frodo was gone. The Ring was gone. Where was Frodo? Where was the Ring? They needed the Ring to complete the Quest. Why? Where was Frodo?

Peter stumbled to his feet, anger building. Where had that blasted Halfling go to? Didn't he know the dangers of walking alone? If Frodo was alone, he could be easily overrun. The Ring could be taken. Foolish Hobbit!

Where was the Ring?

_Where was it?_

"P-Pete?"

Edmund's sleep-heavy voice cut through the red fog in Peter's mind. Peter paused. What had he been _thinking?_

"Go back to sleep, Ed," Peter whispered. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Al'ight," Edmund mumbled and settled back down, returning almost immediately back to sleep. Peter exhaled slowly. Edmund would have known something was off with Peter if he had been more alert, but Peter just wanted space now.

Because he had not been thinking about protecting his family. Nor about the rest of his companions. Not even about the Fellowship. Or... Aslan.

He had been thinking about the Ring. Only about the Ring.

What he been about to _do_?

Peter raised his hand to bite down and muffled a grieved sound.

Aslan... _what had he almost done?_

The High King of Narnia stumbled away from the rest of the Fellowship, heading deeper into the forest. There was the sound of a running brook, and Peter headed towards the water on instinct. He found a small clearing, with a wide, silver-bark oak standing sentry over the water and collapsed next to it.

Was this the power of the Ring? The reason behind the Elves' distaste of Men?

Men are so easily swayed...

Peter bowed his head.

Men were so easily swayed. For good, or for evil, for indecision.

Sons of Adam, Daughters of Eve. Edain. Children of Men. The middle race.

Oh, Aslan! What he been about to do? What would have happened... No. That was his job to do. It was not his to find out. This was his story. And thank the Lion he had done anything.

Thank you, Aslan, and thank you, Ed.

Peter raised his head to rest it on the tree, looking up. The sun was on the rise, and a small breeze just barely breathed through the leaves. Silver and green, with gentle golden light.

Peter was safe.

Edmund, and the girls were safe. Eustace, Jill, Rilian and Caspian were safe. The Fellowship was safe.

More importantly, the Ring was safe with Frodo. Frodo was smart. He understood better than anyone the burden he carried.

The Quest would continue.

Peter clenched his hand into a fist. The Quest would continue. He, Peter Pevensie the Magnificent, High King of Narnia had given his vow to see this Quest to its end.

The Ring wouls be destroyed. This Sauron would be destroyed. Middle Earth would be set free.

He was sent here by the Great Lion, and he would not fail.

He would not fall.

This would be his first and only test, Peter vowed through clenched teeth. Evil would not prevail.

Not on his watch.

But what to do about it? The Ring was awakening, its magic strengthening. It was reaching out, seeking new ways to spread havoc. It would certainly try to tempt out the others.

That would not do.

Peter rose to his feet. He would have to talk to Edmund. Also to Caspian. Especially to Caspian. The Telemarine had already tasted the allure of the Ring, just has Peter had.

Peter had to protect his family, his people. But how?

"Oh, Aslan, what I to do?" He murmured.

"Well done, Son of Adam," came a deep, comforting, _familiar_ voice. Peter looked to see the Great Lion standing before him.

"Aslan," Peter breathed out. He stepped forward, and then cast himself into the Lion's embrace, fisting the thick mane with his hands.

"I am here, Peter," Aslan said.

"Yes," Peter said. "The Ring's temptation is strong. Stronger than the Witch's."

"Yes," Aslan replied. "This world is also older than either Narnia or Charn. It's magic will be strong. It is also dangerous. But I am well pleased with you, High King, because you remembered me."

"What shall be done, Aslan?" Peter questioned. "How can I protect my people?"

"Do not fear the Ring, Peter Pevensie," Aslan answered. "Its magic may be strong. But never forget, I sang the worlds into being. It is cheap compared the magic ancient beyond time. It is powerful, I am more, and I sent you and your family. There will be trials. But I have faith in you. Now, the sun comes and the others will be waking. Return to them."

"Yes, Aslan," Peter nodded. "Wait! Are you not going to come back with me?"

"Each world is different, Son of Adam," Aslan said. "Their knowledge of me is different. Narnia is dear to me. I am able to spend much time there. Here, I watch. I have created, and now I watch."

Peter nodded, but did not fully understood. But when he looked up again, Aslan was gone.

He had his answer, though.

Aslan was with them.

Sauron would fail. The Ring would be destroyed, and all of the Narnians would return home when this adventure was complete.

They would be fine.

Peter breathed out. He would fine. The Ring would not succeed in breaking the Fellowship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! The next chapter!  
> What will happen next I wonder?
> 
> Until next time!


	28. Author's Note

I love you guys.

All of my readers and subscribers are incredible people. Shout out to every one of you. You guys make my day.

Unfortunately...

Ow... That is just painful to say.

Anyway... I am so sorry for this long period of no updates. Life happened, and _One Who Rules Over All_ just fell to the side.

I am going to push to finish the first book, and then title it as the first book in the series. But, if I can't finish this by the end of August, it is going on a two year hiatus. The reason being I am heading off into a two years missions trip with limited connection, and I will be focused on my work there.

I hope to at least finish the first book before I leave, however.

So keep in touch, updates should be coming in out.

Love you all,

Rose, out.


	30. Authors Note

I hate announcing this. I really do. But I am calling a hiatus for this story. I'm sorry to all my subscribers and readers. My life is now really busy with little time to focus on this fanfic.

I have the rest of the story planned, I just ran out of time.

Thank you all,

Rose the Lothcat.


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